


two for mirth

by OtherCat



Series: two for mirth [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: A wild paladin appears, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Anti-Bloodsport! Karkat, Dave Resents The End of His Career, Dubious Consent, Gamzee is a Putz, Gladiator! Dave, Gladiators, Just saying: Sendak has six letters, Karkat Vantas: romance novelist, Karkat Would Have Preferred Sextoys to an Actual Person, M/M, Politics, Sex Work, Shiro (Voltron) cameo, Shiro can't get away from the space princesses, Slavery, Slow Build, THIS IS CRACK FIC, Where did the politics come from, hemospectrum issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Now about that gift I got you, remember how you’ve been all wistful about your concupiscent quadrants? Well I got you something to fix that.”</p>
<p>“What,” Karkat said blankly. “Gamzee no, tell me you didn’t get me sex toys.” </p>
<p>The good news is that it's not sextoys</p>
<p>The bad news is that it's a person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I got you a present, my fine ass motherfucker,” Gamzee says once the video chat is set up.

“I keep telling you, you don’t need to get me anything, dumbass.” The penthive apartment was gift enough, though Karkat insisted on paying for the utilities...now that he could actually afford them. “I feel like a kept man enough already.” 

Gamzee’s grins “Having you on my arm’d be an improvement over some of the motherfuckers in my entourage, bro. My brethren ain’t much help at calming my tits.”

Karkat felt a twinge of guilt. “If you want, I can take the next liner out and meet up with _Iron Castigation of Heretics_.”

“What about your writing, bro?” Gamzee asks with a frown.

“I can write on board the ship,” Karkat says. 

“Bro, you hated being on the ship,” Gamzee says. “You never could get your inspiration on proper, and some of my brethren are still real set in their ways.” 

That was Gamzee for “some of my brethren are raving bigoted jackholes.” Karkat did not remember his time on the Iron Castigation fondly, but if Gamzee needed him, he’d be there for him. “Gamzee, if you’re having trouble keeping calm, then I need to be there.”

“Nah bro, if there really was a problem you know I’d talk to you about it. We don’t need to be in each other’s shadow no more.” Gamzee grins again. “Now about that gift I got you, remember how you’ve been all wistful about your concupiscent quadrants? Well I got you something to fix that.”

“What,” Karkat said blankly. “Gamzee no, tell me you didn’t get me sex toys.” No. Just no. Especially with what one of his entourage might encourage him to get for a joke. Visions of oversized nookworms and vibrating bulge puzzles danced in Karkat’s head. 

“Didn’t get you no toys, not as such,” Gamzee says. “I got the idea from _In Which a Highblood Moirail Manages Her Moirail’s Quadrants by Acquiring a Concubine for Him_. Seemed like there was a message there for me in it, so I went looking.” 

What. The. Fuck. “I think you missed the part of the title where it said _A Comedy of Errors,_ Gamzee,” Karkat says. “ _A Comedy of Errors in Which a Highblood Moirail Manages Her Moirail’s Quadrants by Acquiring a Pitch Concubine for Him. The Concubine, a Former Soldier With a Tragic Past Turns Out to be More Pitiable than Hateable and the Moirail Flips Into Dangerously Pale Feelings for Him, Endangering His Pale Relationship With the Highblood_. I think you got the wrong message.”

“It turned out all right in the end,” Gamzee points out. “And there’s no way you’d turn pale for this motherfucker. Mouthiest son of a bitch gladiator you’ve ever seen, and I seen him take down trolls that had three feet of height on him.” 

“You bought me a gladiator. As a concubine.”

“And he’s human, so you don’t got to worry about no drone getting salty with you about concupiscence.”

“Gamzee, no.” 

“I think you mean ‘Gamzee, yes,’ bro,” Gamzee says with a shit-eating grin. “Just give it a chance; you’ll be getting your hate on for him in no time at all.”

Gamzee sends a picture file. It’s a promotional shot, the human posed in an aggressive stance with his sword in his hand. He’s wiry and slim with scars scattered liberally over pale skin. His eyes are a bright red, and his hair is lusus white. Karkat is speechless. Gamzee apparently takes the silence for appreciation, because he sends more pictures. Mostly promotional shots showing the gladiator in various poses, a few pictures that had been taken during a sparring match. “He has red eyes,” is what Karkat finally says. 

“That’s not a problem, is it, bro?” Gamzee asks. “They’re a pretty red, and you can be all matchy.”

“The problem is you bought me a concubine, not the color of his eyes,” Karkat says, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Gamzee, what were you thinking?!”

“That you need a hateable motherfucker to get your rivalry on with, bro,” Gamzee says. “Unless you got your pity on with him, on account of him being a gladiator—I know you don’t approve of bloodsports. I figured either way, it’d be a win.”

“Gamzee, I don’t even know him to pity or hate him! You are literally dropping some stranger in my lap and telling me to fit him in a quadrant.”

Gamzee makes the saddest puppy eyes ever. “Aw bro, don’t a lot of your stories start like that? Folks getting hateable or pitiable folks dropped on them and finding true love?”

“That’s fiction, Gamzee,” Karkat says. “A trope isn’t real life.”

“Give it a perigee, bro. If you don’t want to pail him, I’ll take him back.”

“And do what with him?” Karkat asks. 

“Well, a lot of highblood motherfuckers have gladiators so I’d be right in the mode like. If you don’t want him, I’ll just put him back into competition I guess.”

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t,” Karkat says. “I’ll take him.” And then figure out what to do with him.

Gamzee smiles. “He should be getting to your hivestem in an hour or two, bro,” he says.

* * *

Karkat gets a text from the concierge desk about the delivery less than half an hour later, and Gamzee signs off with a “you won’t regret this bro.” Karkat strongly disagrees with this statement, but doesn’t get a chance to describe how much he does actually regret this situation. Karkat returns the text, confirms that the delivery is in fact a human slave, and permits the delivery trolls to come up.

He spends the next five minutes feeling weirdly nervous as he waits. He debates giving his apartment a quick clean through but vetoes it. The gladiator is no one he needs to impress. ~~(There isn’t enough time.)~~

The gladiator arrives in restraints, which were for liability purposes only, according to the delivery trolls. Once the cuffs are off, the human rubs his wrists and looks curiously around the meeting block before settling into a relaxed pose with his feet a little apart, and his hands clasped behind his back. Karkat signs the paperwork and receives the gladiator’s strife specibus and sylladex. The delivery trolls leave, and Karkat is left alone with his “gift.” 

In person, the gladiator is the same height as Karkat, making him considerably shorter than most trolls. Karkat had half expected the human to be dressed in the kind of half-costume, half-armor that gladiators usually wore, but he’s wearing a tailored suit instead. The jacket and pants are black; the shirt is a bright red. He has gold cufflinks, and his ears are pierced with diamond studs. His gaze is direct and a little challenging, his mouth tilted in a faint smirk. The same expression from the promotional pictures. 

Karkat, dressed in a tattered t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans feels underdressed and unprepared. “So, uh. I don’t know what my moirail told you, but I don’t need a concubine.”

“Master Makara said you’d say that,” the gladiator says. “He said I wasn’t to pay no mind to it and get my seduction on.” His tone is blandly amused.

“That is definitely not a thing that’s happening,” Karkat says. “Like I said, I do not need a concubine, so put anything Gamzee said about seducing me out of your mind.”

“I don’t know, master, doesn’t he outrank you?” the gladiator asks. “Wouldn’t want to get in trouble for not following orders.”

“Gamzee is my moirail,” Karkat says. “And I’m saying it doesn’t matter what he told you. No seduction is taking place, not that I think you’d be any good at it.”

“Aw, why not master? I haven’t even tried any of my smooth moves on you yet.” The gladiator smirks as he gives Karkat a once over. 

“Let’s just say I suspect you were probably a better gladiator than you are a sex worker,” Karkat says dryly. “‘Wouldn’t want to get in trouble for not following orders,’ isn’t exactly sexy. Like I said, I don’t need a concubine, so don’t worry about ‘following orders.’” 

“Yes master,” the gladiator says. “Can I ask what my duties will be?”

“I actually have no idea. For now just consider yourself on vacation. What’s your name, anyway?”

The human blinks. “Dave Strider, not actually a fan, huh?” 

“I don’t watch bloodsports,” Karkat says. “Which I guess my moirail didn’t mention.”

“Nope. Just that he’d bought me for you to get your rivalry on with. I thought that meant I’d be doing some kind of sexy sparring with a fan, but looks like I guessed wrong,” the gladiator says. “So master, where do you want me?”

“I have a guest respite block,” Karkat says, gesturing toward the guest block with the sylladex and strife specibus he was still holding. He tucks them both under his arm without thinking about it, and starts toward the guest block. 

The guest room comes with a dresser, a walk in closet, a computer desk, and a (unfilled at the moment) recuperacoon. The gladiator looks around the room. “Cozy,” he says. “But I can’t use the recuperacoon. Unless of course watching a human babble about the pink marmosets scampering on the ceiling is a thing for you, master.” 

“Great. What kind of bedding do you need?”

“A flat padded platform. I can sleep on your couch until you can find something for me to sleep on.”

“Right. We’ll go with that then,” Karkat says. “Is there anything else you’re going to require?”

The gladiator hands over a sheet of paper. “These are my dietary requirements and a list of troll foods I can’t have. Aside from that, I just need my sylladex and strife specibus pending your inspection of same.”

Karkat sits at the desk and gives the sylladex a cursory once over. It would have already have been gone over a dozen times by now, but it almost seems as if it would be rude not to. As if he was underestimating the gladiator or something. Most of the gladiator’s belongings are clothes, hygiene products and exercise equipment. There is also a computer, movie grubs and a kit for maintaining weapons. The strife specibus has swords and knuckledusters. Karkat hands it all back, and the human attaches both to his belt. 

After that, Karkat shows the gladiator the rest of the apartment. The kitchen, the dining area, the pantry, the laundry block, the study, the ablution block, the deck with its umbrella covered table and chairs and lounging platforms and bubbling soaking pool. The gladiator makes appreciative comments about the décor, and doesn’t mention the occasional pizza box or datagrub that might have been left out in the open.

* * *

The gladiator retreats for the guest block after the tour, and Karkat retreats to his study. He can hear the gladiator decaptchalogging his belongings, and moving things around. Karkat turns to his computer, and starts one of his playlists. This drowns out the moving things around, but doesn’t remove the sense of an extra presence in his apartment. 

He should have put his foot down and made Gamzee take the gladiator back. He shouldn’t have let Gamzee talk him into this. Except he had, and isn’t because of the gladiator’s challenging smirk and half-assed attempt at blackflirting. It had been...not wanting to refuse a gift from Gamzee, even if the gift was a thinking being. It might have been curiosity too. Who was this paragon of assholes Gamzee felt sure was a perfect match for you? 

Karkat goes searching online for flat padded platforms that weren’t concupiscent couches. After some searching, he settles on a pile elevation platform that will fit the dimensions of the room. It has a thick padded horizontal surface, with two padded vertical surfaces set catty corner to each other, with fasteners and poles for creating a tented pile. It stands on short thick legs, and comes pre-assembled. After some more looking around, Karkat also orders snuggleplanes and pile stratification blocks of various sizes and thicknesses. He’s a little unsure about the color scheme, not wanting to encourage the gladiator, then thinks the hell with it, and orders blocks and planes in rust-red and charcoal gray in fuzzy and smooth textures. He selects next night delivery and pays for it. 

After that, Karkat reviews the list of dietary requirements. The dietary requirements aren’t too exotic. Karkat does some research on humans while ordering the necessary dietary supplements. Humans it seemed were one of those rare species that turned out to be remarkably tenacious and hard to conquer despite early assessments, and until the reign of the current empress, that battle front was best described as the grinding between the immovable object and the irresistible force. Currently, it was best described as an extremely hostile détente. 

Karkat is wandering through troll Wikipedia articles about humans when the smell of cooking food penetrates the study door. He follows the smell and finds the human--Dave might as well call him by his name since he’s living here now--in the food preparation block sautéing meat and vegetables in a large pan. Also simmering away on the stove was a pot of pasta. He had changed out of his suit, and was now wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with the logo of some arena or another. “Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes master,” Dave says, not looking up from his cooking. “I also set the table.”

Karkat glances toward the dining area. “You set the table for two.”

“Are you really going to make me eat in the kitchen master? On the floor maybe?” Dave asks. He sounds amused, and indifferent. A tone calculated to show how little he cares.

“That depends, are you trying to get your seduction on?” Karkat asks dryly. “If so you can eat at the table and I’ll just take mine to my room.”

Dave gives him a sidewise glance. “Because I’m wearing clothes specifically aimed toward seducing you,” he says blandly. 

“Maybe if I were actually a fan,” Karkat says. The jeans are tight and the back of the t-shirt is advertising one of those scripted ‘rivalries’ bloodsport arenas are so fond of. “Which I’m pretty sure you must have known I actually wasn’t if Gamzee told you anything about me.”

Dave returns his attention to dinner. “Master Makara didn’t tell me anything about you. I asked, he just said I should find out for myself.” 

“He sent me pictures. But didn’t tell me anything about you either,” Karkat says. Except that he was extremely hateable. “You didn’t have to cook for me.”

Dave shrugs. “I just figured I’d cook for two. And we could awkwardly get to know each other in a completely non-seductory manner.” 

Karkat finds himself helping with the last stages of dinner. He drains the pasta, transfers it to a serving bowl and tosses it with oil, then carries it into the dining area. He’s followed by Dave, who sets the pan of meat and vegetables on a folded towel. He heads back into the kitchen, and comes back with a couple (opened) bottles of beer. He sets them both on the table, and slides into the seat across from Karkat. 

“So, master, what do you do for a living?” Dave asks as he makes himself a plate. 

“I’m an author of concupiscent and conciliatory romance novels,” Karkat says, serving himself a portion of the pasta, and the meat and vegetable mixture. 

“Cool. How many books have you written?”

“Six. I’m working on my seventh.” Karkat talks about the book, and Dave puts on the appearance of interest, or at least not boredom. Karkat asks tentative questions about being a gladiator. He learns that Dave’s previous owner was a former admiral and extremely into gladiatorial combat. 

“There were like twenty of us, plus support staff. We were all first and second tier fighters, Master Terhun didn’t bother with third tier. If you didn’t maintain your rating he’d take away privileges, and if you completely failed he’d put you in support, or somewhere else entirely. Very rarely, he’d sell, but never as a fighter.” Dave eats a forkful of pasta. “Someone getting sold as a sex worker is a first, though we all had our suspicions about the guy who wanted a ‘personal trainer’.”

“What did they usually get sold as?” 

“Retrained as security or body guards usually,” Dave says. “And like I said it was pretty rare.”

“Well, I’m not looking for a sex worker,” Karkat says. “I--maybe we could see about sending you home.” 

Dave’s expression is unreadable as he says, “that would be a nice offer, if I had one, master.” His tone is very flat, and deliberately calm. “Also, wouldn’t there be a problem if you got rid of your moirail’s gift, considering he’s the Grand Highblood?”

And that’s a point. Karkat wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t be offended. Gamzee had been pretty enthusiastic about this entire concubine idea. Dave smirks as he reads Karkat’s reaction, as if he’s won a point. Which he has. “He might be the Grand Highblood, but he’s my moirail first,” Karkat says. “And he was pretty definite about my having you here, so you’re at least half right.”


	2. Chapter 2

After dinner, Karkat connects Dave’s computer to the internet, and sets up the minder that will send reports of Dave’s internet activity to Karkat’s computer. Karkat does not restrict him from any websites or keyword searches. “I do not actually give a damn what you do on the internet, as long as it’s not downloading viruses or compromising basic security. Go wild otherwise.”

Dave nods and follows Karkat over to the door, where Karkat sets the thumblock to recognize Dave’s print. Dave’s hands are scarred and callused, with short flat nails. The difference between troll claws and human nails is somehow more startling than the skin color. (But not as disturbing as the lack of horns on an otherwise trollish shape.) “I didn’t actually check, but do you have an ID bracelet?”

“It was in my coat pocket, I was going to present it on bended knee, like the signifier of our bond it is, but you cut me off at the chase, master,” Dave says with a smirk.

Karkat snorts. “Our only bond is my moirail’s idiocy, now go get it.”

Dave disappears into the guest room, and comes back with a matte black chitin ring. Karkat takes the ring into the study and adds the ring to the home network, then puts in his name, address and other relevant information into the required fields. When he’s done he snaps it closed over Dave’s wrist. “Leave a note or something if you’re going to leave the building, otherwise, stay out of trouble and don’t get picked up by building security or gendarmedecimators,” Karkat says. “I don’t want to have to pay a fine.”

Dave nods, adjusting the bracelet absently. “I’ll stay out of trouble, master. Any other rules?”

Karkat shakes his head. “Not really.” He wasn’t sure of what to say or do next. “Your sleeping platform should be here sometime tomorrow,” Karkat says awkwardly.

“Thank you master,” Dave says. He appears to take Karkat’s words for a dismissal, because he bows and exits the study.

Karkat goes back to his human research, which gradually narrows down to Dave Strider research. Rising second tier fighter, strifekind sword, minor in fist. Previous owner Payson Terhun, high violet, retired admiral. Recently sold to the Grand Highblood who previously had shown no interest in the ring. Karkat reads speculations, many of them wild about the Grand Highblood’s plans and Strider’s future as a gladiator. Karkat watches videos of Dave in the ring, and pre-and-post match interviews.

There’s an alert from Dave’s computer; Dave is checking out Karkat’s promotional page and blog. Dave leaves comments using a third party id service on a few of the blog posts. Suggestions for music for a writer’s playlist, a remark about a movie Karkat reviewed. (Dave didn’t like the movie, but agreed that the female lead was wasted in her role.) A few minutes later, there’s another rude remark, this time to a commenter to a political opinion post. (The post supported one of Feferi’s social reform bills; the commenter made a comment about mutants, Dave replies with a comment about highbloods.) Karkat responds to Dave’s comments, and it’s comment tag for most of the day while Karkat does research (actual writing research not Dave research), and Dave browses the internet.

The next night, Dave is up early, exercising on the deck. He’s wearing shorts and a tanktop and he stops to wave when he sees Karkat standing on the other side of the glass door. “Did you have breakfast yet?” Karkat asks.

“No master,” Dave says.

Karkat makes breakfast for two, and checks the ingredients to make sure nothing is on the list of things Dave can’t eat. Breakfast is pancakes, sausage and grubloaf toast. Karkat sets the table in the dining area. Breakfast is a repeat of dinner, though the conversation is less awkward. Small talk mostly, about the things that they talked about the day before. Plans are made to go shopping for a phone for Dave and get whatever other odds and ends he needs after breakfast.

When they get back from shopping, the pile elevation platform and accessories has arrived. Karkat signs for it and captchalogs it. “You got me one of those pillow fort things,” Dave comments on the way back to the apartment.

“You wanted a padded platform, this is a padded platform.” Karkat says. “What were you sleeping in before?”

“A giant lusus bed, so this is kind of an improvement.”

Karkat moves the recuperacoon out of Dave’s room and decaptchas Dave’s new sleeping platform and accessories. He leaves Dave to set up the sleeping platform to his satisfaction, and moves the recuperacoon to storage. When he gets back, he checks on Dave and finds him sprawled out on the sleeping platform. “Thanks,” Dave says after a beat.

“I wasn’t going to leave you without a place to sleep, so don’t mention it,” Karkat replies.

* * *

Karkat retreats to his study and works on his novel. It’s a historical romance this time, loosely about a famous mercenary who eventually turns against the empire. It was apparently hotly debated whether or not the mercenary had truly rebelled, or if he had been framed. Karkat had wanted the ending to be ambiguous at first, but the novel seemed to be heading for the “truly rebelled” camp. Which meant he might have to retool certain chapters, but it wouldn’t put him over his deadline, so he wasn’t too worried about it.

In between working on the novel, he pokes at a journal entry he’s working on.

I HAVE APPARENTLY COMPLAINED ONE TIME TOO MANY ABOUT BEING LONELY TO MY MOIRAIL. ANY OTHER MOIRAIL WOULD HAVE SUGGESTED I JOIN A BOOK CLUB OR SOMETHING BUT NOT MY MOIRAIL. HE INSTEAD DECIDED TO PURCHASE COMPANIONSHIP FOR ME. AND BY COMPANION, I MEAN CONCUBINE. (MOIRAIL CLAIMS TO HAVE GOTTEN THE IDEA FROM ONE OF MY BOOKS.) HIS NAME IS DAVE, HE’S HUMAN, AND HE’S A FORMER GLADIATOR. 

ANY READER OF MY BLOG KNOWS HOW I FEEL ABOUT BLOODSPORTS, SO YOU CAN GUESS WHICH QUADRANT DAVE WAS SUPPOSED TO FILL. I THINK THE MOIRAIL THOUGHT I WOULD FALL IN INSTANT HATE FOR DAVE BECAUSE HE IS A GLADIATOR. I THINK IT IS SAFE TO SAY THAT MY FEELINGS FOR DAVE ARE ENTIRELY NEUTRAL AS MY HATRED FOR BLOODSPORTS IS DIRECTED AT THE INSTITUTION NOT FOR THE ATHLETES TRAPPED WITHIN IT. SO HIS APPEARANCE MERELY INSPIRED IRRITATION AND MOSTLY AT MY MOIRAIL, NOT THE POOR BASTARD SHOVED INTO A POSITION HE DOESN’T WANT TO FILL.

After fiddling with the entry, and adding in a few things about his interactions with Dave so far, he posts it. He’s not surprised at all that Dave replies to it a half hour later.

what if the athlete really liked being part of the institution what then

I’D ASK WHAT THE ATHLETE LIKED ABOUT BEING PART OF THE INSTITUTION THAT’S WHAT

mostly i liked the competition and using my mad sword skillz the rewards were pretty sweet too and before you ask that question i am aware that my experiences are on the good end of the spectrum and other gladiators were more restricted or lived in worse conditions 

DAMN I ALWAYS LIKE ASKING THAT ONE TOO DID YOU KNOW OR CARE THAT YOUR FAVE LIVES IN A SHOEBOX AND IS TREATED LIKE AN ANIMAL THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION SADLY IS USUALLY NO BECAUSE NO ONE THINKS PAST THE GLITTER AND FLASH AND SCRIPTED BULLSHIT

hey i absolutely guarantee not one piece of bullshit coming out of my mouth was ever scripted i am the goddamn king of running off at the mouth

I STAND CORRECTED YOUR MAJESTY. WHAT DID YOU THINK OF BEING ENTERTAINMENT FOR BORED AND JADED TROLLS

i also guarantee no one was ever bored at one of my fights i liked fighting and its what i was good at and i didnt mind being entertainment or the emphasis on romantic rivalries though that part was kind of weird

WHAT ABOUT HAVING TO KILL OTHER SENTIENT BEINGS HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT THAT?

thats a weird question coming from a troll

I AM A VERY WEIRD TROLL. DO YOU WANT TO ANSWER THE QUESTION? YOU DON’T HAVE TO IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

why does that sound like youre actually saying you dont have to answer if youre a coward

i dont like killing but in the ring its a life and death situation and you have to be willing to kill not every fight ended with the other guy dying though

I DON’T THINK THAT LIFE AND DEATH SITUATIONS SHOULD BE ENTERTAINMENT.

that cuts out a lot of spectator sports though especially troll spectator sports 

LET ME BE MORE SPECIFIC: I THINK GAMES THAT HAVE THE DEFINITE RISK OF SOMEONE DYING AS AN INTRINSIC PART OF THE GAME ARE TERRIBLE. WAR GAMES WHERE NOT JUST THE PLAYERS BUT BYSTANDERS ARE IN DANGER OF THEIR LIVES, FIGHTING RINGS, FUCKING FLARPING, DEATH RACES, HUNTING OTHER SENTIENTS. PEOPLE DYING BECAUSE OF GAMES LIKE THAT SHOULDN’T BE ENTERTAINMENT.

okay so if it wasnt life or death youd be okay with fighting in the ring then

WITH AN ADDITIONAL POINT OF AS LONG AS THE FIGHTERS INVOLVED ACTUALLY WANTED TO FIGHT AND WEREN’T BEING COERCED INTO IT

Dave doesn’t respond after that, though he does respond to other commenters. A few of the commenters are progressives who are horrified that “the moirail” (Karkat never refers to Gamzee by name in his blog, even though his readers knew that his moirail was the Grand Highblood) purchased a concubine and Karkat actually accepted. Other commenters want to ask Dave about his career, and others try to convince Dave that bloodsports are wrong. It turns into quite the argument and Karkat has to slip in with a few threats of the dreaded banhammer before things calm down.

* * *

Karkat gets congratulations and commiserations of various flavors from his friends over the next few nights. Sollux thinks it’s hilarious and mocks him; Nepeta tries to offer romantic advice. Terezi teases, but is otherwise sympathetic, Kanaya is genteel and horrified, and Eridan professes to be envious. (“Fef never got me concubines, Kar. She was busy reading subversive literature when they were handing out highblood decadence.”) Equius doesn’t think Karkat deserves a second tier gladiator. Aradia sends sympathetic emojis and stories of highblood creepiness are exchanged.

Dave sticks mostly to the apartment. On alternate nights, he heads down to the hivestem’s gym, but doesn’t leave the hivestem. After a few nights of this, Karkat offers to give Dave money to go see a movie, go to a bar, and do whatever it is that gladiators do on vacation. Dave, topless and sprawled out on the couch, idly flicking through TV channels, looks up. “You want me to go out,” he says thoughtfully. “Alone.”

“Is there a problem with that?”

Dave lifts his wrist with the ID bracelet. “This says I’m entertainment, master,” Dave says patiently. “I’d have to fend off various offers and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a sex worker management license.”

“From what the entertainment rags indicate, gladiators and other athletes have nights out on the town.”

“Indeed they do! With an entourage of support staff to set up a perimeter!” Dave corrects cheerfully. “I am now a sex worker. I only had about a perigee of training, but still.” The sprawl wiggles into a pose possibly intended to be sultry. “If I go out I need to be in the company of my master.” Dave waggles his eyebrows. “Or people might get the wrong idea.”

“What if they think I’m your pimp?”

“Oh, then we kick their asses,” Dave says, and sits up. “C’mon master, let’s go, treat me in a manner that I’d like to become accustomed to.”

Karkat snorts. “Okay, fine. This is not a date though.”

“Two guys, going out, staying on their own sides of an invisible no-romo line gotcha,” Dave says, getting up off the couch and heading for his respite block.

It’s not a date, but Dave comes back out dressed for one. (Tight black pants, red silk shirt, black leather jacket.) Karkat doesn’t argue, just stomps into his respite block to change into something other than his jeans and t-shirt. (He settles on gray slacks, a black turtleneck and a sweater.)

Karkat takes Dave to a restaurant he’s been to a few times before, usually with Terezi on the few occasions she’s visited. It serves spicy mid-caste South Continent cuisine, middling expensive with decent service. They’ve never given Karkat trouble because of his being a mutant, though they seem a little nonplussed about Dave. Dave is amused, and flirts with the waiter, Karkat rolls his eyes and orders a seafood stew, and Dave orders thin strips of highly spiced steak with vegetables.

They’ve been in each other’s pockets for the past few days, and there isn’t really a lot to talk about at first. They end up talking about conversations online, which leads Karkat to say, “You’ve been having fun taking over my blog. Have you thought of creating one of your own?”

“What would I write about though?” Dave asks. “It’s not like I’ve been all that busy, except for taking over your blog.”

“Whatever you wanted to write about,” Karkat says. “You certainly seem to have opinions. Or you could write about the ring.”

“Maybe,” Dave says. “It’s more fun just to troll.”

“Do you have any other interests? Besides trolling.”

“Drawing, photography, collecting dead things in jars, when I was a kid,” Dave says. “I still do the drawing and photography. I did a few promotional shots for our--for Master Terhun’s PR guys.” A pause. “They said I had a good eye.”

The mid-sentence correction gives Karkat an odd little twinge of guilt. It was a reminder that Dave had been comfortable where he’d been. That he had considered himself a participant in his owner’s hobby, not just a replaceable commodity. That he undoubtedly felt betrayed by his former owner, for selling him to the Grand Highblood, who in turn gave him to his mutant moirail as a concubine. (After a perigee of re- training. Karkat very much did not want to know about the details of that.) “If you want, I can get you a camera, or anything else you might want,” Karkat says. There hadn’t been any cameras or art supplies in Dave’s sylladex. Karkat decided not to ask about it.

Dave gives Karkat an assessing sort of look. “That would be cool,” he says.

Dinner arrives, and they talk about blogging, about art and writing. Dave makes a few offhand remarks about his childhood, and Karkat shares a few stories of his own. Karkat asks questions about Dave’s training as a gladiator and Dave asks questions about Karkat wanting to be a Threshcutioner when he was a wiggler. They very carefully avoid areas where the conversation might get too deep.

After dinner they got to a movie. Karkat lets Dave pick an action movie with lots of explosions. (There is a romantic subplot that isn’t too tacked on.) They argue about the plot on the way home.


	3. Chapter 3

It doesn’t occur to Karkat until the next evening, just after breakfast when Dave is getting ready to go down to the gym. Just a memory of Dave saying, _“This says I’m entertainment,”_ and a realization that Past Karkat should have made immediately. “Dave, are you having any problems at the gym?” Karkat asks.

Dave pauses in tying his shoe. “Nah, the equipment is pretty much what I’m used to using. Good quality, kept in good condition--”

“I’m not asking about the exercise equipment,” Karkat says. “I’m asking about encounters you might have had with my neighbors.”

Dave looks up, his expression unreadable. “Encounters, master?”

“Is anyone bothering you?”

“Not really master,” Dave says, and finishes tying his shoe. “Just to ask who I belonged to, the first night.”

“If anyone harasses you, let me know,” Karkat says. “Get apartment security and have them call me.”

“Yes master,” Dave says. “May I ask what brought this on?”

“Yesterday,” Karkat says. “The reason you gave for not wanting to go out alone. It occurred to me I should make sure my neighbors weren’t giving you trouble.”

“I haven’t had any problems, master,” Dave says, and gets to his feet. “But if you want to come down and defend my tender virgin modesty from ravishment that’s cool too.”

“Tender virgin modesty, huh?” Karkat asks skeptically. “What about that perigee of concubine training?”

“Mostly theory, master,” Dave says earnestly and wide eyed. “I remain untouched, my pitch yearnings entirely for you to awaken--”

“Oh my god. Shut up,” Karkat says. “If anyone told you I have a kink for pre-Ascension twinks, they lied.”

Dave snickers. “I can handle someone getting fresh with me, master. I didn’t mean to worry you,” he says.

“But it’s apparently a concern?” Karkat asks. “Since that was the reason you didn’t want to go out alone.”

Dave shrugs. “Maybe. I can defend myself, but I’d get picked up by the gendarmedecimators if things got too wild. Didn’t want to cause you any trouble.” He smirks a little. “Also I wanted to see what you’d do if I asked you to come with.”

“Well now you know,” Karkat says irritably. He was beginning to see, could already see why Gamzee might have thought Dave would be a good pitch concubine. (There was the posturing, the attitude, the sideways sense of humor, the _testing_ Karkat was doing his best to ignore and possibly failing.) “I offer to protect you from the lascivious eyes of my neighbors. Wait, I want to change into my gym clothes.”

Once Karkat changes, they go down to the gym. The gym is on the ground floor and includes rooms for dance and aerobic classes and a sparring ring. He usually sticks to the exercise equipment, choosing times of the day when no one is likely to be around. At this time of night the gym is usually fairly empty, a handful of trolls scattered through the main room. A few of the trolls look their way, but they are otherwise ignored. “Where to first?” Karkat asks.

“I usually go to the treadmills,” Dave says. “I stretch, run about twenty minutes.”

Karkat nods, and follows Dave over to the treadmills. He follows Dave through his stretching routine, or tries to; Dave is extremely flexible and shows off. Karkat is pretty sure that splits, backbends and handstands are entirely unnecessary to a warm up routine. (Karkat claps sarcastically, and Dave bows.)

Karkat speed walks during Dave’s run, and in general takes a slower pace during the workout when they go to the various exercise machines. Dave may or may not be continuing his attempt to show off with how much weight he can lift. How much he can flex and bend. Karkat refuses to be impressed, and refuses to compete. (It’s surprisingly hard not to.)

“How often do you come down here, master?” Dave asks at one point.

Karkat bristles a little, feeling defensive, but realizes this is just an idle question. “Every few days. Otherwise I exercise out on the deck.”

“My being here must’ve interrupted your schedule,” Dave notes. He doesn’t say, _“because you’ve mostly been in your study since I’ve been here,”_ but it’s strongly implied.

“Just a little,” Karkat says. “I’m not used to living with someone who isn’t my moirail.” He had felt self-conscious and unsettled, unable to setting into his usual routine with Dave a continuous presence both off and online.

Dave intermittently asks questions about Karkat’s routine in between his sets. He asks questions about what exercises and equipment Karkat usually uses, how long and how often, what muscle groups he usually concentrates on. Karkat returns the favor and learns a great deal about gladiatorial training.

(Dave talks about having been first sold to a gladiatorial schoolfeeding facility and then scouted by one of Lord Terhun’s people after one of his first fights. Dave mentions it mostly to illustrate the difference in the quality of training equipment and the old versus new training regimens, but Karkat mostly focuses on the fact that Dave had been around five when sold to the schoolfeeder, and had his first fights when he was almost seven. At sixteen, both ages seem ridiculously tiny and young, even though at seven he’d been desperately training and fighting for and beside Gamzee and the Heiress.)

“So master, do you want to spar sometime?” Dave asks after the workout.

“Maybe. It’s been a while for me,” Karkat says.

“I promise to go easy on you,” Dave says immediately.

“Can the rivalry-challenge bullshit and I might be more likely to say yes,” Karkat says.

“It’s kinda an ingrained response, I don’t know if I can help it.”

“Exert yourself.”

* * *

Karkat gets used to having Dave around. They play video games and trashtalk. (It is almost companionable between them.) Dave takes over cooking dinner, and some of the housekeeping. (Karkat usually did his own, when he thought of it.) He accompanies Karkat when he goes down to the gym. They spar, and Dave does a ridiculous little hip swinging, strutting dance when he wins. (He also dances in the kitchen when making dinner, or when out on the deck and occasionally coming out of the ablution block. “Gotta put those dance lessons to work, Master,” he says. Dave is not actually a bad dancer, though Karkat has no intention of ever admitting it.)

Karkat has no idea if Dave likes _being_ around. This is a thing that is becoming important. Dave is exasperating. Dave reads over his shoulder and makes comments about what Karkat’s writing. (It never occurs to Karkat to tell him to go away. Occasionally the comments are even useful) Dave makes up truly obnoxious raps and talks to himself, holds entire mumbled conversations with himself about a variety of topics. Dave has nightmares, and sometimes spends all day watching movies on the entertainment center because he can’t sleep. (Sometimes Karkat joins him on the couch, pretending that he can’t sleep either. He doesn’t know whether the company is appreciated or not, but he thinks Dave doesn’t mind.) With Dave, Karkat is starting to feel the same amount of irritation and affection that he has felt for most of his friends.

And Karkat wants Dave to like being around.

(This is stupid, because Dave is around because he has to be around because Gamzee gave him to you. This is stupid because you know he doesn’t want to be here. This is stupid because you own him and he doesn’t want to be your friend, even if he’s acting like it, you _moron_.)

Dave gets his camera. Dave starts a blog. He refers to you as “Mr. Shouty.” He comments on and reblogs your posts. He takes and posts videos of himself dancing or practicing with a sword. (He tries to get you to do a video of the two of you sparring, but you refuse.) He posts pictures that he took in various parts of the city. He writes about the ring, and makes memes. He reads your books and makes fun of the characters and the plot. Then he makes fancasts. (You reply to tell him he’s totally wrong.) He posts fanfic of his favorite shows.

Gamzee trolls you.

TC: SeEmS LiKe tHe tWo oF YoU ArE GeTtInG AlOnG. :o)

TC: PeRiGeEs jUsT AbOuT Up yOu wAnT To kEeP HiM?

CG: AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGMENT I LIKE HAVING HIM AROUND SO YES.

CG: THERE IS NO NEED TO TAKE HIM OFF MY HANDS

TC: ReD Or pItCh, BrO?

CG: AS USUAL THE ANSWER IS WHO THE HELL EVEN KNOWS. I AM LIKE A SPINNING TOP OR A CARNIVAL MERRY-GO-ROUND WHERE I STOP NOBODY KNOWS LEAST OF ALL ME. I AM THE KING OF MUDDLED QUADRANTS IT’S ME.

TC: HaHaHa iT DoN’T MaTtEr hUmAnS AiN’T EvEn gOt qUaDrAnTs. Is hE DoInG RiGhT By yOu?

CG: I AM GOING TO BLITHELY PRETEND YOU’RE ASKING ABOUT HIS COOKING SKILLS, WHICH ARE SURPRISINGLYEXCELLENT. IN WHICH CASE, YES HE IS DOING RIGHT BY ME. 

TC: YoU HaVeN’T PaIlEd hIm yEt?

CG: I HAVE NOT ENGAGED IN ANY SEXUAL ACTIVITIES OF DUBIOUS CONSENT WITH THE EX-GLADIATOR YOU PURCHASED TO BE MY CONCUBINE. UNLESS THE DANCING COUNTS. I THINK THE DANCING MIGHT COUNT BUT HE’S NEVER DONE THE THING WHERE THE ONLY THING SEPERATING THE TWO OF YOU IS A FEW PIECES OF CLOTH.

TC: YeAh hE’S PrEtTy gOoD

TC: Aw bRo

CG: DON’T AW BRO ME, HE DOESN’T WANT TO BE HERE, HE LIKED BEING A GLADIATOR AND YOU DECIDED YOU WANTED HIM TO BE A SEX WORKER. 

TC: NoT LiKe hE HaD A ChOiCe iN BeInG A GlAdIaToR EiThEr, AnD AiN’T It a gOoD ThInG He’s nOt iN ThE RiNg aNyMoRe? ThOuGhT YoU DiDn’t aPpRoVe oF ThAt.

CG: I DON’T. BUT FROM WHAT HE’S SAID HE WAS TREATED WELL AND HE LIKED WHAT HE WAS DOING. I HAVE NO IDEA IF HE LIKES BEING PREMATURELY RETIRED FROM THE RING TO BE THE ROOMMATE OF THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD’S MOIRAIL.

TC: BuT YoU LiKe hIm rIgHt?

CG: YES

CG: BUT WHETHER HE LIKES ME IS A MYSTERY

CG: AND MORE OR LESS IRRELEVANT FOR A VARIETY OF REASONS. 

CG: WOULD YOU BE ANGRY IF I MANUMITTED HIM AND SENT HIM BACK TO TERRAN SPACE?

CG: THOUGH I’M HONESTLY NOT SURE HE WANTS TO GO BACK TO TERRAN SPACE BECAUSE THE FEW TIMES I MENTIONED IT, HE GOT WEIRDLY UPSET. I OFFERED TO SEND HIM HOME BUT HE SAID HE DIDN’T HAVE ONE. 

TC: I WoUlDn’t bE AnGrY, nO. bUt i mIgHt jUsT GeT YoU AnOtHeR. ;o)

TC: AnD KeEp dOiNg tHaT TiL I FoUnD OnE YoU LiKeD.

CG: GAMZEE

TC: BrO

TC: BeSt bRo

TC: PaLeSt bRo oF MiNe

TC: LiKe sEaFoAm lIkE SuN BlEaChEd sAnD

TC: I WiLl lEt yOu mAnUmIt hIm iN A SwEeP. bUt dOn’t tElL HiM AbOuT It.

CG: OKAY. FINE.

* * *

Karkat thinks about _“I will let you manumit him in a sweep,”_ after he signs off with Gamzee. Karkat thinks about Gamzee playing matchmaker, taking a plot from one of his novels as advice. (This is not a romance novel Gamzee. This is real life, which doesn’t play by a writer’s rules.) He thinks about liking Dave though of course not in any sensible quadrant. (Not that it would matter if his feelings for Dave did fit neatly into a quadrant.) Gamzee’s whimsy had created this situation, but at least he was being given an “out,” even if it was a sweep in the future. He could help Dave find a place, some career or position a freed human might be able to obtain in the Empire, engage in a little benign nepotism if necessary, in a sweep.

Maybe once freed, they could even be hate friends. ( _Not only hate friends_ , some half traitorous/half hopeful voice in the back of his whispers. Though there’s no “only” with Karkat. Feelings are complicated, and Karkat knows that his feelings--his affections-- are four times as complicated because they are a muddle of pitch and flushed, ashen and pale. Everything all at once in various shades. It’s a wonder he can manage the pale quadrant when the rest of the grid is a smear of pink and gray.)

Karkat gets an alert from Dave’s computer. It’s a Trollian conversation between Dave and Gamzee. It starts out as cryptic comments, and then becomes an interrogation.

TC: ArE YoU DoInG RiGhT By mY FiNe bRoThEr?

TC: ArE YoU SeRvInG HiM ThE WaY He dEsErVeS?

TG: i am serving him in every sense of the word master makara

TG: it is kinky butler island up in here

TG: black ties and cock cages everywhere 

TG: what will it be today sir fellatio with a side of sausage right away master

TG: it will be served up hot and sizzling to your order

TC: My bRoThEr sAyS OtHeRwIsE

TC: He sAyS No pAiLiNg hAs oCcUrReD

TG: there have been no buckets at all

TG: its a good thing the kitchen and bathroom are highly polished marble patterned cement

TG: itd get in the grout if it were tile and id have to strip and restain if it was wood

TG: he made me steam clean the carpet after we did it in the living room

TG: im getting better about swallowing though master makara

TG: i just pretend its a weirdly warm strawberry smoothie

TC: CG: I HAVE NOT ENGAGED IN ANY SEXUAL ACTIVITIES OF DUBIOUS CONSENT WITH THE EX-GLADIATOR YOU PURCHASED TO BE MY CONCUBINE. UNLESS THE DANCING COUNTS. I THINK THE DANCING MIGHT COUNT BUT HE’S NEVER DONE THE THING WHERE THE ONLY THING SEPERATING THE TWO OF YOU IS A FEW PIECES OF CLOTH.

TC: NoW If yOu hAd sAiD MaStEr mAkArA He jUsT AiNt tHaT InTo mE

TC: Id hAvE SaId jUsT KeEp oN As yOu aRe hE LiKeS YoU FiNe

TC: If yOu hAd sAiD MaStEr mAkArA I CaN’T TaLk aBoUt tHaT

TC: I WoUlD HaVe sAiD I AlReAdY AsKeD My bRo aNd hE SaId nOtHiNg’s gOiNg oN BuT DoN’T WoRrY AbOuT ThAt

TC: My fInE MoThErFuCkEr hAs a tHiNg aBoUt aGeNcY

TC: ThInKs eVeRyOnE OuGhT To hAvE It

TC: EvEn iF It mAkEs tHeM MoUtH OfF LiKe tHe sAsSy lItTlE BiTcHeS ThEy aRe

TC: BuT YoU HaD To gO An lIe tO Me

TC: aNd mY BrOtHeR WoN’T PuNiSh yOu oVeR ThIs lAcK Of rEsPeCt

TC: BeCaUsE He iS A GoOd aNd kInDlY MoThEr fUcKeR

TC: BuT I Am nOt.

TC: AnD MaYbE YoU ThInK I CaN’T PuNiSh yOu fRoM WhErE I SiT

TC: ThAt i dIdN’T LoOk iNtO YoUr pAn aNd sEe aLl tHe gUiLt aNd pAiN AnD FeAr lOcKeD Up tIgHt wHeN YoU WeRe hErE

TC: AnD SeT In pLaCe sUcH A CuRsE ThAt wOuLd mAkE YoU ReGrEt aNy dIsReSpEcT YoU DaReD To eNgAgE In

TC: BuT YoU’D Be wRoNg

The last line is just three letters and a number followed by Gamzee’s smiling emoticon. It was a keyword. A keyword Gamzee set in place that would set off a chucklevoodoo “curse."

Karkat curses, knocking his chair against the desk as he hurries to Dave’s block. He finds Dave on his hands and knees next to his desk, forehead pressed against the carpet. He’d been sitting at the computer in his underwear. Dave is shaking, and saying something over and over again in what Karkat guesses is a human language, in between huge, tearing sobs. It’s terrible, seeing him like this and Karkat is extremely unhappy with his moirail right now. Dave is strong, and flippant about what has happened to him when he talks (or writes) about it at all. Seeing him like this is painful. (And the merry-go-round of emotions settles on “pity.”) Karkat approached cautiously. “Dave?”

Dave doesn’t react to the sound of his name, or Karkat’s presence in the room. Edging carefully around Dave, Karkat sees that the message window is still open. He sits down at the computer and sends, GAMZEE WE ARE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS LATER. IN EXHAUSTING DETAIL, then closes the window and logs Dave out.

Karkat attempts to approach Dave, to touch him lightly on the shoulder, but Dave flinches violently and scrambles into a corner, eyes wild and unfocused, breathing hard. Karkat keeps his distance and makes sure that Dave can see his hands. “Dave. Can you hear me?” Dave huddles tighter into his corner, arms up to protect his head. He doesn’t respond. “Can you hear me? You don’t have to talk, just nod or shake your head.” The arms lower and Dave stares at him as if peering through a fog. He gradually seems to recognize Karkat, though his position is still defensive. After a moment, he nods, slightly.

“What you’re feeling right now will wear off in about an hour or two,” Karkat says. “Whatever you’re seeing or hearing aside from me talking to you, isn’t happening right now, okay?”

After a moment of hesitation Dave nods again, slightly.

“I want to make you something to drink, that will help you calm down. Will you take it?”

Dave gives him a wary look, and makes a noncommittal noise.

“It will make you feel better,” Karkat says, and waits.

After what feels like a long wait, Dave nods.

Karkat retreats to the nutrition block, and heats a fruit cider that Dave likes (but not as much as apple juice) over the heating unit and adds spices, a miniscule amount of mind honey and a dollop of extremely expensive apple brandy. (In very small amounts, mind honey was supposed to help get rid of chucklevoodoo “curses.” Hopefully it worked that way with humans.) He pours the concoction into a mug, and then carries that and a plate full of spice cookies into Dave’s respite block.

Dave hasn’t moved in the time Karkat was away, and flinches a little when Karkat enters the room. “I’m coming closer and setting the cookies down. Do you want to take the mug?” Karkat asks, narrating his movements.

Dave takes the mug and sips cautiously. “What’s in it?” he asks. He speaks slowly, as if he’s trying to remember Alternian.

Karkat lists the ingredients.

Dave gives Karkat, and then the mug a suspicious frown. “Mind honey.” A long pause. “Hallucinogen,” he says.

“It’s supposed to get rid of chucklevoodoos, though that might just be a story. It’s safe for humans; well, as safe as any mind altering substance, which admittedly isn’t very considering how dangerous it is for trolls…” Karkat trails off.

Dave rolls his eyes, a sarcastic gesture native to both trolls and humans, and takes another sip. Karkat can almost hear the commentary going through Dave’s head right now: _“I feel so reassured. I will happily imbibe the hallucinogenic hot toddy, knowing it is safe for humans and the pink purr beasts on the ceiling will not eat me because they are not actually there.”_

“Just drink it, and eat your cookies,” Karkat says, feeling a sense of relief at this sign of recovery.


	4. Chapter 4

Dave takes small sips from the cup and eats the cookies. He seems calmer now, though there’s still a certain tension in his shoulders, and he seems very intent on pretending he isn’t keeping an eye on Karkat’s every move. Karkat keeps his distance, but doesn’t leave the room. It wasn’t a good idea to leave someone alone after having been cursed with a chucklevoodoo. It was even less of a good idea to leave someone alone who had been dosed with mindhoney.

Karkat sees that Dave had knocked a can of carbonated beverage onto the floor in his initial panic, along with some data grubs. He cleans up the mess, and then rummages in the dresser for a clean pair of underwear and a set of soft sleep clothes. (Dave frowns at that, but doesn’t comment.) “Let’s get you into the shower before the mindhoney sets in,” he says as Dave finishes the last cookie.

Dave murmurs something, most of it unintelligible except the ending, “…before you decided on drugging me.”

“My logistics are above reproach,” Karkat says briskly. “Now get moving.” Dave rises to his feet, a little unsteadily, and reaches for the clothes, but Karkat doesn’t give them over. “I’ll set them on the counter in the ablution block.”

Dave gives him a confused, slightly annoyed look, but doesn’t argue heading out of the respite block, for the ablution block. Karkat follows Dave, and after setting the clothes down, waits just outside the open doorway while Dave showers. Dave doesn’t like this at all, and mutters under his breath about it at length. Mostly on the subject of privacy, and feeling like he was back in the barracks again. (Karkat doesn’t mention the times Dave left the door ajar on his own, or the one time he walked out of the bathroom naked except for the towel he was drying his hair with.)

The mindhoney hits about midway through the shower, and Karkat has to help Dave out of the trap. (The trap drain blinked at him. The water had a tempo that he tried to demonstrate by tapping on Karkat’s shoulder. There was someone standing behind the fog on the mirror. Karkat: “That’s your reflection, idiot.” Dave: “No, there’s someone there. He’s standing right there.”)

He dries Dave off, and helps him into his sleeping clothes. Dave complains the entire time, trying to insist that he’s perfectly capable of dressing himself. (He isn’t.) Dave gets distracted by the differences between his hands and Karkat’s, and spends several minutes comparing the differences between his longer more narrow hands with Karkat’s short fingered broad ones. (The mumbled commentary gives Karkat some annoyed-fond nostalgia for Gamzee’s intoxicated rambles.) They are so close right now, and the intimacy makes Karkat feel a little flustered, even as he tries to be all business. Dave is too intent on his investigation of Karkat’s hands to notice, which Karkat feels obscurely grateful for.

Karkat gets Dave dressed, and moves him to the meeting block and Dave drops boneless onto the couch. “Now what?” he asks, blinking fuzzily up at Karkat.

“Now we watch TV and you eventually go to sleep,” Karkat says, and settles on the opposite end of the couch. He queues up one of his favorite fan vid playlists, mostly pale romantic, with a little bit of red and some good character studies. No combat scenes, which he thinks might be a little triggering at this point for Dave.

Dave watches the vids, and sometimes watches things that aren’t actually there, and slumps slowly sideways. He mumbles comments about the vids, about what isn’t there that he’s seeing, and eventually ends up in Karkat’s lap. Karkat doesn’t fight it beyond pushing Dave back upright the first few times he started to list. “Hey. This is kind of pale. Is this pale? This not a good idea,” Dave says a little later. He tries to get up, but just flops a little.

“It’s not pale,” Karkat says, and keeps Dave from falling off the couch, holding him until Dave stops trying to get up.

“Yeah but…you kinda are? Being pale? I don’t wanna get in more trouble.”

“You’re not in trouble, my moirail is in trouble,” Karkat says. “And this is not pale. You are not the first person I’ve taken care of after Gamzee’s chucklevoodoos have had their way with their pan.”

“’M in your lap,” Dave points out. “I bet you didn’ do that with them.”

“You sort of put yourself there,” Karkat says, and sort of pets Dave’s hair back from his forehead. “And no, I didn’t.”

“Gravity did,” Dave says. “Science.” And then, “that’s not pale?”

“Nope.”

“Red?” Dave asks with a sleepy frown. “I might not get in trouble if it’s red.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Karkat repeats. (Karkat tries not to think about how young Dave sounds right now. The image of the tough and amusingly sarcastic gladiator has pretty much dissolved right now.) “Gamzee is in trouble.”

Dave blinks up at him, confused. “Why’s he in trouble?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” Karkat says.

“Oh,” Dave says, and then. “Sorry.”

“You’re sorry because he’s an asshole? That’s my job.”

“No I. I fucked up. He was asking questions and. Just what am I supposed to do? He didn’t--I mouthed off before.”

“Now it’s a little pale,” Karkat says, a little jokingly. It falls a little flat at the suddenly worried expression on Dave’s face. “What did he do before?”

“I dunno, laughed, sometimes. Told me to shut up other times,” Dave says. “That was the first time I really lied to him about something though.”

“I don’t think I have to tell you that being chucklevoodooed for lying is completely disproportionate to the crime,” Karkat says.

A ghost of Dave’s sarcastic smile appears. “Yeah.”

* * *

Dave falls asleep eventually, winding down from anxiety and tension to a loose limbed sleepiness. He starts awake a few times and tries to flop his way back to his respite block, but Karkat holds him still. Tells him--multiple times--that he’s going to be sleeping on the couch tonight, that Karkat is going to keep an eye on him. Dave argues, or tries to, and falls asleep midsentence.

Karkat sits there for a while, with Dave’s head in his lap, watching the video playlist. He thinks about the worry in Dave’s voice, the fear and uneasiness in his eyes. Karkat remembers Dave saying, “wouldn’t want to get in trouble for not following orders.” There was so much anger under those words. Everything he wasn’t saying broadcasting “I don’t want to be here.” And under the anger, there was fear. Fear of punishment, perhaps. Fear of Gamzee, definitely.

It saddened Karkat sometimes that almost no one knew what Gamzee was really like under the mantle of the Grand Highblood. The Gamzee who was a lost wiggler waiting for his custodian to come home. The total asshole who had held Karkat tight when he was the one who had lost his mind for a change. The fierce protector, whom Karkat was more than pleased to protect. And Gamzee would never have shown that side of himself, the tender pitying, pitiable side to someone he apparently thought would be the perfect kismesis for his moirail.

“Goddamit Gamzee,” Karkat muttered angrily. Then he regretted it, because Dave stirred, half-awakening.

“Mm?” Dave looks up at him, puzzled and sleepy. He doesn’t seem to be aware that his head is still in Karkat’s lap. Or he’s too tired to care about it at this point.

“I’m not talking to you, go back to sleep,” Karkat says.

“Mm.” Red eyes flutter closed, Dave shifts and settles in. Exhausted from the stress of the chucklevoodoos, foggy-headed from the mindhoney, he goes back to sleep.

Karkat waits a while longer before gently easing out from under Dave. After a quick trip to Dave’s respite block for a snuggle plane, and tucks Dave in. Then he sits in a chair catty corner to the couch with a reader-grub and settles in for a very long day.

Dave’s sleep turns restless, low muttering accompanied by slow flailing around noon. Karkat sets down the grub-reader and watches, but Dave doesn’t wake up, and slowly settles back down. It happens again two hours later, and this time Dave cries out and flails, half-awake and frightened, falls off the couch. Karkat talks him down, tells him where he is, what’s going on, what time it is. Dave stares at Karkat blindly, but gets back onto the couch under his own power and eventually drifts off to sleep.

Karkat sleeps, though he doesn’t intend to. His eyes get too tired to focus on the reader, and things get strange and slow. The reader dangles, and he has just enough presence of mind to set the thing down on a table before his eyes drift shut and he loses track of a few hours. When he opens them again, Dave is gone and he’s covered by the snuggle plane, and the door to Dave’s respite block is closed.

The night has an early start. Karkat showers, changes into a clean set of jeans and a t-shirt, and makes breakfast. Dave does not make an appearance. Karkat leaves a plate for Dave and retreats to his office for a few hours of editing and proofreading. He keeps an eye on Trollian, but Gamzee does not come online, and neither does Dave. He posts to his blog and responds to comments.

Dave eventually emerges from his respite block. Karkat can hear him moving around in the apartment, and after a while, the TV turns on. Karkat almost goes to check on him, but decides against it. It might seem pale, and Dave was worried the day before about “pale” behavior. (It hadn’t been pale. It hadn’t been simply taking care of another one of Gamzee’s chucklevoodoo victims either. But he couldn’t call it “red” and be done with it either.) Karkat listens and realizes that Dave is playing the video list from last day.

Gamzee does eventually come online. Karkat does not immediately pounce on him. He would have already gotten the message Karkat left for him. Gamzee already knows that Karkat is pissed. So Karkat waits. Either Gamzee will contact him, or Gamzee will wait. But eventually, they are going to talk.

Karkat doesn’t have to wait too long.

TC: I KnOw tHaT YoU ArE NoT BeSt pLeAsEd wItH Me mY BrOtHeR

TC: BuT I StAnD HeRe uNrEpEnTaNt.

TC: ThE HuMaN LiEd mOsT SlAnDeRoUsLy

TC: It mAdE Me iLl tHe tHiNgS He sAiD. i dO NoT NeEd tO HeAr aBoUt bUcKeTs oR ThE MaKiNg oF ThEm. 

TC: YoU WoUlD NeVeR ShOw sUcH LaCk oF ReGaRd fOr a kIsMeSiS

TC: At lEaSt i hOpE NoT :o(

TC: YoU AnD CaPtOr wErE So cUtE ToGeThEr

TC: ThOuGh yOu aLwAyS ApOlOgIzEd aFtEr aNd wOuLd gO AlL FlIpWaYs

TC: WhIcH WaS AlSo cUtE

TC: ToO BaD YoU CaN’T HaVe hIm fOr a kIsMeSiS BeCaUsE DrOnEs

CG: I’M SURE THE UNIVERSE AND THE FORCES OF SERENDIPITY WEEP AT MY NEVER-TO- BE ROMANCE WITH THE SACK OF WIRES AND BULGES KNOWN AS SOLLUX CAPTOR.

CG: I PINE NIGHTLY OVER THE TWO-TONED SACK OF BONES THAT IS MY BEST HATEFRIEND. SUCH SEXY. SO SWOON.

CG: WITH HIS DERANGED MOOD SWINGS AND MY TOWERING RAGE OUR SPAWN WOULD MESSILY EXPLODE THEMSELVES ACROSS THE BROODING CAVERN FLOORS UPON HATCHING.

CG: WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO CURSE DAVE? WHY DID YOU THINK YOU HAD TO SET A CURSE IN THE FIRST PLACE?

TC: I Am tOo fAr aWaY To kEeP HiM In lInE

TC: AnD WhIlE I HoPeD He’d sEe yOuR WoRtHiNeSs i tHoUgHt hE WoUlD NeEd sTeRnEr cOrReCtIoN ThAn yOu’d eVeR GiVe hIm

TC: So i pLaCeD A CuRsE On hIm aNd tRiGgErEd iT WhEn hE SpOkE To mE Of dEgRaDaTiOn aNd hUmIlIaTiOn

TC: DiD He tHiNk i’d wAnT To hEaR ShIt lIkE ThAt? AbOuT My oWn gOoD AnD KiNd mOtHeRfUcKiNg mOiRaIl BeInG An aBuSiVe fUcKeR MoSt uNwOrThY? TeLl fUnNy lIeS If yOu’rE GoNnA LiE, mOtHeRfUcKeR.

CG: …

CG: IF YOU THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED TO KEEP HIM IN LINE, IF YOU THOUGHT HE MIGHT ACTUALLY BE DANGEROUS, WHY DID YOU SEND HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE?

TC: My bRoThEr, I StUdIeD HiM LoNg aNd hArD. i dO On oCcAsIoN WaTcH ThE WiCkEd bLoOdSpOrTs aNd tHe rInG. tHe hUmAn cAmE To mY AtTeNtIoN WhEn oNe oF My bReThReN SeNt mE A ViDeO Of hIs fIgHt wItH An iNdIgO GlAdIaToR NaMeD PiTcHfIt.

TC: ThAt bRoThEr tHoUgHt tHiS WaS NeAr bLaSpHeMy tHoUgH ThE InDiGo wAs iN FaCt a dIsGrAcEfUl aNd pEtTy cRiMiNaL BrOuGhT LoW By hIs oWn eXcEsSeS, a mOsT CoNtEmPtIbLe mOtHeRfUcKeR In tRuTh. ThAt bRoThEr tHoUgHt tHiS HuMaN NeEdEd tO Be pUnIsHeD FoR DaRiNg tO StRiKe dOwN An iNdIgO.

TC: I SaW A MiRaClE WiTh lUsUs-wHiTe hAiR AnD EyEs lIkE YoUrS. i sTuDiEd hIm aNd wAtChEd hIm fIgHt fOr hAlF A SwEeP. i sAw hIm kIlL AnOtHeR InDiGo, OnE NaMeD BlAkFiSt. It sEeMeD To mE ThAt tHiS HuMaN WaS MaDe fOr yOu bY ThE MiRtHfUl oNeS, mY BrOtHeR. WhEn i hAd hIm oN ThE ShIp, I BeCaMe sUrE Of iT.

TC: BuT I CuRsEd hIm, LoVe, BeCaUsE WhIlE I LoVe mY GoDs, I Do nOt mOtHeRfUcKiNg tRuSt tHeM.

CG: OKAY. LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. YOU PICKED DAVE FOR ME BECAUSE HE HAS WHITE HAIR AND RED EYES. YOU ALSO PICKED HIM BECAUSE YOUR ASSHOLE OF A CO-RELIGIONIST THOUGHT HE NEEDED TO BE PUNISHED FOR BEING A BETTER FIGHTER THAN THE INDIGOS HE KILLED. LET ME GUESS THE PUNISHMENT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THAT HE’S SERVING A MUTANT OUTSIDE THE HEMOSPECTRUM. BUT YOU CURSED HIM BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO HANDLE HIM ON MY OWN.

CG: ARE THESE THE BASIC FACTS ON THE MATTER?

TC: HoNk

CG: CAN I ALSO EXTEND THE HYPOTHESIS THAT YOU ARE PERHAPS MORE THAN A LITTLE BLACK FOR HIM YOURSELF?

TC: hOnK

CG: GAMZEE

TC: YoU ArE NoT WrOnG. tHoUgH My bLaCk fEeLiNgS ArE MeDiAtEd bY HiM AlSo bEiNg tOo fUcKiNg sCaReD Of mE To bE A PrOpEr kIsMeSiS

CG: THAT ACTUALLY DESCRIBES MOST OF THE EMPIRE GAMZEE

TC: HoNk

CG: ARE THERE ANY OTHER CURSES?

TC: ThErE MaY Be, BuT I SeT NoThInG In pLaCe tHaT WaS NoT InTeNdEd tO LaNcE A BoIl.

CG: THAT DOESN’T ANSWER THE QUESTION.

TC: No iT DoN’T. aNd i’m nOt gOiNg tO, mY BrOtHeR. aLl yOu nEeD To kNoW Is tHaT I SeT NoThInG In pLaCe tHaT WaS NoT InTeNdEd tO LaNcE A BoIl.

CG: WHAT BOIL WERE YOU LANCING BY PUNISHING HIM FOR LYING? OR RATHER PUNISHING HIM FOR LYING AND BEING UNFUNNY ABOUT IT.

TC: ThErE ArE SuCh tHiNgS In hIs hEaD As hE DoEs nOt wAnT To bE ReMeMbErInG. i mAdE HiM ReMeMbEr oNe oF ThEm.

TC: ScHoOl hIm oN QuAdRaNtS My bRoThEr. He dId nOt lEaRn tHeM PrOpErLy.

CG: IT’S NOT LIKE A PERIGEE OF CONCUBINE TRAINING IS GOING TO TEACH HIM ABOUT BEING A KISMESES GAMZEE

TC: ThAt aIn’t wHaT I MeAnT.

CG: AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO EXPLAIN WHAT YOU DO MEAN ARE YOU

TC: NoPe.

TC: I HaVe tO Go nOw mY BrOtHeR. ShIp’s gOiNg tO Be oUt oF RaNgE SoOn. TwEnTy mInUtEs, ThIrTy bEtWeEn mEsSaGeS On tRoLlIaN. yOu wAnT To tElL Me mOrE AbOuT HoW YoU FeEl, BlOw uP OuR DrOp bOx.

“Oh, I intend to, Gamzee,” Karkat mutters at the screen.

* * *

Karkat re-reads his conversation with Gamzee, and thinks about Dave. “School him on quadrants my brother. He did not learn them properly,” Gamzee had written. What would a human gladiator learn about quadrants? Ring promotions emphasized pitch rivalries and relationships between gladiators, even the non-troll ones, which were mostly scripted. So and so at last meets long-time rival on the field of battle. The young upstart faces the veteran. Gladiators calling other gladiators to the field of battle, speaking admiringly--sometimes suggestively-- of gladiators they’d like to fight. Dave had mentioned that he’d thought that was “weird.” Gladiators often had “relationships” with their fans or with their owner’s friends or sponsors, or the owner themselves. A young troll influenced by the fighting ring entertainment culture wouldn’t have a standard understanding of how quadrants actually worked. A young human probably wouldn’t either.

He also thinks of a little snippet of information that Gamzee had given him. “The human came to my attention when one on my brethren sent me a video of his fight with an indigo gladiator named Pitchfit.” Gamzee had removed Dave from his career as a gladiator in part because some bigot wanted Dave punished for killing an indigo. Why was Gamzee going along with the wishes of the bigot, or at least pretending to? (Besides Gamzee thinking that Dave’s red eyes meant he belonged to Karkat.)

Karkat’s head hurts. And he needed to check on Dave, and probably also talk to him. Karkat logs out of Trollian and closes his documents before heading into the living room. Dave has fallen asleep on the couch, his head tilted back. He was snoring faintly, and still wearing the sleep clothes from last day. The remains of breakfast are on the low table in front of the couch. Karkat picks up the plate, glass and fork, and the slight sounds wake Dave up. “How are you feeling?” Karkat asks.

“Okay,” Dave says, rubbing at his eyes. Then, “kinda headachey.”

“Did you take anything?”

“Yeah.”

Karkat heads into the food preparation block, and washes the dishes. He can hear movement from the living room block. “Don’t even think of going back to your room, Strider,” Karkat says.

“…Can I go take a piss?” comes back faintly.

“Go ahead, just come right back and settle your glutes on the couch.”

There’s more muttering, too low to hear. Karkat finishes cleaning the dishes, and heads back to the meeting block, and has a seat in one of the chairs. Dave emerges from the ablution block about a minute later, and goes to sit on the couch. “So, what now, master?” Dave asks.

“My moirail is undoubtedly an asshole,” Karkat says. “But he is not entertained by the idea of me making someone a bucket, or implications of abuse. Which does not mean what happened is your fault. It’s Gamzee’s fault for overreacting and it’s also my fault, because I wasn’t taking this situation seriously enough, and he knew I wouldn’t, so he cursed you.” Karkat pauses, takes a breath. “But I’m going to try to do that from now on.”

“‘Taking this situation seriously,’” Dave repeats, resentful and also wary. “What does that mean master?”

“It means I’m going to pay more attention to you. So far I’ve been treating you like a cross between a roommate and I don’t know; a lusus I’m taking care of for someone else. Just keeping you occupied, diverted and entertained, though probably not enough of all three.”

“I’m supposed to be keeping _you_ entertained,” Dave shoots back.

“No, you’re supposed to be my kismesis, which you aren’t,” Karkat says.

“You already said you don’t want a concubine, master,” Dave says, giving Karkat an unreadable look somewhere between uneasiness and anger.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you,” Karkat says. More uneasiness from Dave, and wariness. “I didn’t want you, but I like having you around. I know this can’t be the ideal retirement--”

“It’s not a _retirement_ ,” Dave snaps. “It’s not a _fucking_ retirement. I got sold off.” Dave gets to his feet obviously wanting to storm off but rises too quickly and just stands, swaying. “To do something I’m not even good at after a perigee of training.”

“Did you get a lot of fan mail, after you killed Pitchfit?” Karkat asks.

Dave blinks at the change of topic. “I--what?”

“Did you get a lot of fan mail, after you killed Pitchfit?” Karkat asks again.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember getting any hate mail, platonic hate, threats?”

Dave frowns. “The mail was usually filtered. Master Terhun would say if there had been threats, so I’d know to be more careful, but I never got the letters themselves if they were threats or platonic hate. I know I got some threats, because I wasn’t allowed to leave the estate for a perigee.”

“What about Blakfist?” Karkat asks.

“Yeah, I got a lot of letters after that fight. And enough threats that I didn’t leave Master Terhun’s estate and wasn’t allowed to fight, issue or accept challenges for an entire tournament cycle,” Dave says, sitting back down.

“Did your previous owner tell you or imply that you should throw the fight with Blakfist?”

“Master Terhun wouldn’t’ve told me to do something like that,” Dave says. “Fighting fair was too important to him. He’d say fighting in the ring was better than fighting in actual combat, because you could fight fair.”

Karkat wants to ask, “Do you actually believe that’s true?” but doesn’t. “Someone took offense at you winning against an indigo the first time,” Karkat says. “And also probably the second. You’re a human with bright red mutant eyes and you’re not supposed to be able to beat an indigo. _Other_ indigoes beat indigoes; _seadwellers_ beat indigoes if they somehow end up in the ring. _Cobalts_ beat indigoes occasionally. Nontrolls don’t. Mutants don’t.”

“Master wouldn’t put me in a fight he expected me to lose,” Dave says, his voice rising angrily.

“Maybe not, but he couldn’t keep you in the ring either, though he probably wanted to,” Karkat says. “And probably would have too, until you got killed either in the ring or by assassination, but the Grand Highblood intervened.”

“He bought me because I killed an indigo? That _motherfucker_.” Dave is up on his feet again, as if pulled up by his anger. He stalks away from the couch, swaying only a little bit. _“Motherfucker!”_

“He bought you because you killed an indigo, didn’t want you to die, and because you have _red eyes_ ,” Karkat points to his own. “The asshole thinks you’re a gift sent special to me from his twin asshole dieties.”

“I can’t deal with this,” Dave says, more to himself than to Karkat. “This is bullshit. I don’t even understand what’s going on. _Fuck_ this shit. Why did--”

“Dave,” Karkat says, but Dave doesn’t seem to hear. “Dave,” Karkat says, a little more sharply.

Dave twitches, and glares in Karkat’s direction. “Either sit down and we’ll keep talking, or you can go to your room and we can talk later. You have to the count of five to make a choice. One…”

Dave retreats for his room when Karkat gets to three, the door closing hard--but not slamming--behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some time stamp and/or switched POV scenes on tumblr.
> 
>  [Dave's POV when he's told he's been sold off as a concubine. ](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/post/144472789126/request-two-for-mirth-daves-pov-when-hes-told)
> 
>  
> 
> [Dave's POV on being delivered to/meeting Karkat](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/post/144572789721/two-for-mirth-daves-pov-on-being-delivered)
> 
>  
> 
> [Dave's POV for when Karkat tries to give him money in chapter two](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/post/144460983791/oh-man-i-would-love-to-see-daves-pov-for-when)
> 
>  
> 
> Also a small note about posting on tumblr vs on AO3: So, I started posting two for mirth in short chunks, because the original intent was to write smaller parts more frequently. (This worked for a couple posts but backfired, due to real life situation related stress.) I wanted to post these chunks directly to tumblr to see if this increased the note/comment/reblog count. (Before I had just been posting complete chapter links from AO3.) I also wanted to see if I could increase my writing productivity in this area.
> 
> But I did not want to post these smaller chunks as individual chapters on AO3 because they were too short and were more like scenes than chapters. So I consolidated the shorter scenes into my usual 2000+ chapters and put them up on AO3, and posted the consolidated chapter links.
> 
> Check out the [two for mirth tag](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/tagged/two-for-mirth) on my tumblr for post chapter blather, snippets and meta.


	5. Chapter 5

Karkat puts on one of his writing playlists and starts cleaning up the apartment. It’s not all that messy; but it’s something to do while he thinks. (While he gives Dave some time to cool down.) He wonders if it was too much information, too soon. A lot of what he’d told Dave was what he’d received from Gamzee, and what Karkat knew about the ring, the business and politics behind it, brightly colored by his own opinions about bloodsports. He was pretty that what he’d said was accurate, but again, what he’d said had been colored by his opinions and his moirail’s understanding of the situation.

(And that understanding included the belief that Dave Strider had been created to be his moirail’s kismesis.)

Karkat can’t imagine what might be going through Dave’s head right now. Dave had respected his former master. He had fought in the ring because he had enjoyed the challenges and the rewards. He had not wanted to become a concubine, he didn’t want to be here, and he possibly feared punishment because his attempts at “seduction” were unsuccessful and unwanted. And now he’d been told that he’d been sold as a way to protect him from caste politics he had either not known about, or hadn’t taken seriously, because his master obviously hadn’t taken them seriously.

(This is not quite true. Karkat has rich experience with being told there are things he can’t do, for reasons he can’t help.)

Karkat orders dinner, taking care to get things he knows that Dave likes. He chooses one of the fancier restaurants, and also orders a couple bottles of wine. While he waits for the food to arrive, he heads back to his study and checks his e-mail. There’s a letter from his agent that he takes the time to reply to before checking Dave’s activity on his computer: no updates from Dave’s blog, or comments on from Dave on Karkat’s. Karkat doesn’t know whether to be worried or relieved. (He leans toward relieved. He thinks he would have had to delete any post or comment that Dave might make.)

He sets the table (plates, glasses, silverware, and candles) and when the food arrives, carries the packages and arranges them. The packages are sculpted biodegradable plastic that were meant to look like real dinner ware, and came with serving spoons, knives and ladles. The meal involves giant stuffed fungus, rare steak, sliced and sautéed tubers in a spicy wine sauce, a light soup with delicate translucent noodles in meat broth and the dessert was a sticky layered pastry with honey and nuts. Karkat lights the candles. (He picked a neutral color that doesn’t mean anything.)

With dinner set up, Karkat calls Dave into the dining area. It takes a few minutes, but Dave eventually emerges from his respite block. He blinks at the dinner laid out on the table, and then looks at Karkat, a little confused. “Have a seat Dave,” Karkat says, and Dave obeys.

Karkat serves him a bowl of soup before serving himself, pours them both a glass of wine. “Are you feeling better Dave?” he asks.

“Yes master,” Dave says in an undertone, and eats a spoonful of soup.

“Good.” Karkat says. He asks if Dave still has a headache. He talks about music. Dave doesn’t know what to make of it, but he replies to Karkat’s questions, and talks about making playlists.

After the soup, Karkat fills Dave’s plate with the tubers and a stuffed fungus and then makes his own plate. He pours Dave wine when his glass starts to get empty. Dave is increasingly confused, and tentatively tries to ask what’s going on, but Karkat ignores the question, gently coaxing Dave to eat instead. “What do you know about kismesis?” Karkat asks when Dave is partway through his plate. “I mean, aside from a perigee of concubine training.”

“Um. Sexy sparring, I guess? With a lot of bitey sex, insults and arguments,” Dave says. “And rivalry.”

“You can have ‘sexy sparring’ with your matesprit,” Karkat says. “Or ‘bitey sex,’ ‘insults’ or ‘arguments’ for that matter. ‘Rivalry’ is the only part that’s even a little correct.”

“So school me, master,” Dave says bitterly. “On how to be a proper kismesis.”

“That is not a thing I can actually do,” Karkat says. “So I’ll describe an ideal kismesis instead. Have a steak.” Karkat selects one of the larger steaks, and sets it on Dave’s plate, and a smaller steak on his own. “An ideal kismesis is rivalry with someone you have pitch feelings for, who also has pitch feelings with you. Pitch feelings are anger, frustration and a sincere admiration for the other person. A kismesis makes you stronger. You make a kismesis stronger. These feelings are overwhelming and intense and it is a tragedy when a kismesis goes too far and ends in the other’s death. Embarrassment is okay, humiliation that goes too far is not. Too far depends on the couple, but if everyone is laughing included the person being embarrassed, chances are good no one’s gone too far.” Karkat punctuates the lecture with gestures from his knife and bites of steak.

“I’ve been trying to do that,” Dave says, poking at his own steak.

“The origin of concubines was so that nobles didn’t have to worry about not having an actual quadrant nearby. Or have actual quadrants. I’m so hard and dedicated to warfare and the Empire I can’t establish and maintain an actual relationship. It also became a way for nobles to reward underlings or actual quadrants,” Karkat says. “Of course that intention defenestrates itself immediately when you’re talking about non-troll concubines or concubines being given to mutants who are not allowed to contribute. Technically you could be considered a courtesan but courtesans are technically free and also facilitators and mediators as well as entertainers.”

“Which has what to do with anything?” Dave asks.

“You’ve been trying to hateflirt because you think--still think--that you’ll be punished if you don’t,” Karkat says. “Even though I’ve told you that you didn’t have to.”

“Maybe you’re actually that hateable,” Dave says in an attempt at snark. The tone falters a little though, and his eyes are confused and uncertain.

“Maybe you’re actually that afraid of my moirail, or being sent somewhere worse,” Karkat says.

Dave flinches. “So?”

“You won’t be sent anywhere,” Karkat says. “I wasn’t thrilled about this in the beginning, this is probably on the top of the list of things my moirail has done that has made me question my life and my choices, but I like having you around, so we’re going to work on this.”

“Work on this?” Dave asks sharply. “Like this is what, a relationship?” His hands grip the table, as if he’s thinking of pushing away from it.

“Like this is a relationship,” Karkat says. “Which it is. Incredibly fucked up as it is. Eat your steak Dave. We’ll talk more about it after dinner.”

Dave flushes red, and looks like he wants to throw the steak in Karkat’s face. He breathes deeply instead, staring at his plate, before mechanically picking up knife and fork and carving himself a slice.

Karkat pours Dave another glass of wine.

* * *

Dave tries to ask questions, but Karkat deflects them with questions about Dave’s dating experience. Karkat isn’t surprised to learn that Dave, an experienced gladiator was expected to flirt with fans and his former master’s allies. He had also been encouraged to engage romantically with them, something Dave pretends to be casually boastful about. Dave talks about parties he’s been to, and restaurants that wouldn’t normally have accepted his presence but had to because of who he was with. Under the boasting is a kind of brittleness which Karkat also isn’t surprised by.

Karkat coaxes Dave to eat some more vegetables, and another stuffed fungus before getting to his feet and saying, “I’ll clean up. You can go sit on the couch.” Dave blinks at him in tipsy surprise as he crosses over to Dave’s side of the table, tugs Dave’s chair away and gently manhandles him into the meeting block. Dave protests, but not very much as he’s guided into the meeting block and sat down on the end of the couch.

“Why are--” Dave tries to ask, but Karkat covers Dave’s mouth with a hand.

“Shut up,” Karkat says, voice stern. “Sit quietly.” Dave’s eyes widen a bit, plainly surprised at the tone, but he obeys. Karkat cleans up, packs away the leftovers and washes the dishes. He keeps tabs on Dave, who is actually doing what he’s told. (Possibly too sleepy from food and alcohol to disobey, or too confused by a sudden command from someone whose previous authoritarianism had been limited to “do what you want as long as it doesn’t inconvenience me.”) He second guesses himself; _would_ Dave do better with a little more structure? _Did_ he want to give in to Gamzee’s matchmaking attempt? (Because that is essentially what he was thinking of doing. Goddamit Gamzee.) _Should_ he do this in the first place?

This was of course stupid. Not the second guessing necessarily, but the worrying that went with it. If he screwed up, he’d be able to fix it. He was just going to talk to Dave (after a more or less ambiguously romantic dinner) about quadrants and consent and boundaries. Topics he did not at this moment feel qualified to discuss, especially with a tipsy former gladiator turned concubine with understandable feelings of resentment and betrayal. (Why did he think getting Dave drunk was a good idea? Possibly because inebriated equaled uncoordinated and easier to handle if Dave decided to really pitch a fit. Also, Dave looked too pitiable to be sober.)

Dave is fidgeting on the couch when Karkat goes back into the meeting block, though the fidgeting stills when he sees Karkat. “Master? Dave asks uncertainly.

Karkat settles into the chair catty corner to the couch, on the edge and balanced forward. “So. Relationships,” Karkat says.

“Fucked up relationships,” Dave says, and frowns. “Why are we fucked up?”

“Consent issues,” Karkat says. “Slave owning issues. My moirail being an asshole and giving you to me issues.”

Dave has a dubious look on his face. “You care about owning a slave?”

“I care about not owning slaves. As in, I think that should be a thing,” Karkat says. “Which I realize is immensely hypocritical considering the situation, but there it is.”

Dave frowns. “I knew you didn’t like gladiators, but I didn’t know anti-slavery was one of your issues.”

“Most of my ‘issues’ deal with consent in some fashion,” Karkat says patiently. “That would include slavery. And I don’t dislike gladiators, I dislike gladiators being coerced and groomed for potentially lethal combat as _entertainment_.”

“Yeah, but you never said anything,” Dave says, still frowning. “I mean you said you didn’t need a concubine, but that doesn’t mean you’d be anti-slavery, just that you didn’t want me.”

“I also offered to manumit and send you home within hours of your arrival,” Karkat points out.

“Home’s gone,” Dave says immediately. “Couldn’t go back anyway.”

“Human space is always trying to get humans repatriated,” Karkat says. Dave had mentioned not being able to go back before, the few times Karkat mentioned the possibility, but had never really explained.

“They execute you if you kill another human,” Dave says, shaking his head. “Anyway, you still never said you were anti- slavery.”

“I still think that would be implied by not wanting a concubine, Dave,” Karkat says. “Also, that sounds fake.”

“You’re a troll, what would you know about human laws?” Dave asks. “It’s illegal, okay? And no, it just means you don’t want a concubine.”

Karkat is struck by how it doesn’t--still doesn’t-- seem to occur for Dave to ask for manumission anyway. It would be hard to be a free human in the Alternian Empire, but it was still possible. It’s either fear of the unknown, or fear of the Grand Highblood and what he might do, or some combination of both. It might be simple resignation. It was often _very_ hard for a free human to find paying work they could live on; this might be the better of two evils, for him. (If he did ask, he’d have to explain why he couldn’t grant it for a sweep because Gamzee didn’t want him to.) “I guess I can see that,” Karkat says. “I thought it would be fairly obvious, from my blog. I wondered why you didn’t try pitchflirting based on my hypocrisy.”

Dave shrugs. “Didn’t see it,” he says. “Not like you had a choice with me being here, so I don’t know why it’s hypocrisy.”

It felt like Dave was making a peace offering. Karkat congratulates himself for not ruining the peace offering by listing all the ways it is in fact hypocrisy. Or ranting about exactly how terrible Gamzee was for trying to give him a kismesis.

“I want you here now,” Karkat says. “I was angry about my moirail giving you to me, but I’ve come to appreciate your company. I should have tried harder to put you at ease, to give you some structure to being here, and most importantly, give you something to do. I made a stupid mistake and I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Is that what the…dinner was about?” Dave asks. “Making it up to me?”

“More or less,” Karkat says.

“Okay,” Dave says, and after a pause, “was it supposed to be…romantic? You were being…it was weird, okay?”

Karkat smiles a little. “I was being weird. Possibly also romantic.”

“What quadrant?” Dave asks with a frown. “The candles were kinda just beige.”

“No quadrant,” Karkat says. “I…don’t really have quadrants, except pale. Except Gamzee.”

Dave does not ask, “you mean like a human?” This is possibly because he is a human. (Karkat is pleased anyway.) “That’s why you don’t want a kismesis,” he says instead. “Why did Master Makara have me trained as a kismesis?”

“I don’t even try to guess at what my moirail is thinking when he does a thing,” Karkat says. He can’t help the fond exasperation in his tone. “He probably thought that’s what you’d be best at being.” Karkat was not going to mention Gamzee’s possible black crush. “Also I’ve occasionally had black crushes, though they’ve always switched rapidly between red, pale and occasionally ashen.” _And I wouldn’t exactly call it “trained,”_ Karkat thinks.

“So romantic means what?” Dave asks. “Not pale?” There is a definite tone of worry in Dave’s voice.

“I have a moirail,” Karkat says. “And it’s not pale.”

“So you want to be concupi--have sex with me?”

“Right now I want to make up for screwing up,” Karkat says. This is possibly the worst deflection. “Do you feel up to having dessert?”

Dave looks like he wants to argue. Instead he says, “sure.”

* * *

Karkat gets up and goes to the nutrition block and takes the pastry out of the refrigerator. He thinks about the conversation so far as he cuts it into sections and sets two of them on plates. (There is enough pastry and other leftovers for meals tomorrow. Karkat is definitely ordering from that restaurant again.) He’d seen the wheels turning in Dave’s head, confusion, worry, and a sort of cynical vulnerability at the words, “and it’s not pale.” Karkat could almost hear the “so I _am_ going to be getting fucked,” in Dave’s voice when he asked “so you want to be concupi--have sex with me?” Expectations of the situation restored to business as usual.

(He should have waited before saying anything more detailed than “I want your company.” Karkat of a few minutes ago was an idiot. One the other hand, despite feelings of guilt, it was probably better that he bring it up now than have the possible implication left hanging. Current Karkat was probably also an idiot. The implication was still hanging and the implication should be called what it was, which was as far as Dave knew, “getting fucked.” Current Karkat was definitely an idiot.)

Karkat carries two plates of dessert and two cans of carbonated beverage into the meeting block, sets them on the table in front of the couch, and hands one of the plates and a can to Dave.

“Not more wine?” Dave asks as he sets his plate beside him, and opens the can, taking a sip.

“We’ve both had enough,” Karkat says, opening his own can and setting it on the table. He sits back in his chair with his plate balanced on his knee and eats a forkful of the pastry.

“Yeah, much drunker and I wouldn’t be able to get it up,” Dave says, and laughs. It is not a happy sound, and it is not a funny joke.

Karkat feels a little twitch of guilt at that but says, “What you do after I tuck you in is your own business.”

It takes a few moments for Dave to puzzle this out. “Are _you_ too drunk to get it _out_?” he asks.

“Eat your dessert, Dave,” Karkat says.

“You’re really bossy,” Dave says, and sets the can between his thighs so he can pick up the dessert. “I didn’t think so at first but you really are.” He has some of the pastry. “Okay this is good,” he says with his mouth full.

“I’m definitely ordering from that restaurant again,” Karkat says, and has some more pastry.

“Can I have seconds?” Dave asks.

“You aren’t even finished with what you have,” Karkat says. “And no. If you’re hungry tomorrow you can have some with breakfast.”

“Why are you being so bossy?” Dave complains around another forkful of pastry. “It’s weird and kinda pale except,” Dave waves his fork. “Not pale apparently. And you didn’t answer. About the sex thing.”

“And I’m not going to,” Karkat says. “I’ve told you as much as I think your inebriated mind can handle.”

“I’m inebri--drunk because of you,” Dave points out reasonably. “And it doesn’t take much to understand the sex thing,” Dave says. “I’m _good_ at understanding the sex thing. The best. _Are_ you too drunk to get it out?”

“If I say yes, will you stop asking?” Karkat asks.

Dave tries on a leer. “Maaaaybe,” he says.

“Eat your dessert Dave,” Karkat says, this time trying out the stern tone he’d used earlier.

Dave obeys, but he grumbles about it at length. Master is bossy. Dave is not that drunk and this whole day has been weird. Also, consent issues are hoofbeastshit. He says other things less intelligible, mostly speculations about Karkat’s experience or lack thereof. Dave does not appear to be aware of how much he’s saying that he possibly shouldn’t. (This is often the case when Dave starts muttering.) When his plate’s empty Dave sets it down on the table, and stretches sleepily. “Now what, master?”

“Now I clean up, and then we watch a movie or something.”

“Romantic,” Dave says.

Karkat takes the plates and cans to the nutrition block. When he gets back to the meeting block, Dave is leaning against the arm of the couch, not looking at anything in particular. He sits up a little when he sees Karkat, and pats the seat next him. “Sit next to me master,” Dave says.

“Okay.” Karkat settles next to Dave, and picks up the TV controller. (Dave is warm and their thighs and shoulders are touching. Karkat feels incredibly awkward.) Karkat lets Dave pick the movie. It’s a surrealistic comedy that Dave falls asleep halfway through, his head on Karkat’s shoulder.

When the movie’s over, Karkat guides Dave to his respite block. Dave complains, but is also very uncoordinated and clumsy. He allows Karkat to settle him on the sleeping platform and watches sleepily as Karkat takes the garbage bin, replaces the liner and set it by Dave’s bed. “G’morning,” Dave mumbles sleepily, and covers his head with a snuggleplane.

“Good morning,” Karkat says, and heads for his own respite block. He strips down to his skin and slides into his recuperacoon. It takes a while, but he eventually gets to sleep.

The next evening, Karkat doesn’t want to get out of the recuperacoon. His head hurts and he is pretty sure the sopor is the only reason it doesn’t hurt more. He’s hungry, but at the same time there’s a sour feeling that warns him that actually eating might be a mistake. Karkat groans, and contemplates completely submerging himself until the pain (and hopefully everything else) goes away.

Unfortunately, once awake, he can’t get back to sleep. After several minutes of internal debate Karkat drags himself out of his ‘coon, wipes off the sopor, and puts on a robe before slumping out of the respite block with a bundles of clothes and heading to the ablution block. Passing through the meeting block he sees Dave curled up on the couch nibbling at grubloaf toast and watching a local newsfeed on the TV. Dave looks up blearily and waves a piece of toast in greeting. “Evening, master,” Dave says.

Karkat returns the greeting with a vague wave and goes into the ablution block. After a shower, dosing himself with painkillers, dressing and taking care of his dentition he feels if not better, at least more like a troll. He exits the ablution block and finds that Dave had made extra grubloaf toast spread with nut paste. He had also made tea. Karkat pours himself a cup and takes cup and plate of grubloaf into the meeting block, and sits in the chair.

The newscasters are unbearably cheerful, though Dave’s muttered snark is entertaining. Karkat listens to snark and newscast with only half an ear, and nibbles his toast. He thinks about what he said yesterday, and the things Dave had and hadn’t said. He’s worrying if he said too much or not enough, if he’d screwed up everything, finally gets so exasperated with himself he finally just says, “How’s the hangover?”

“All I can say master, is that dinner did not taste as good coming up as going down,” Dave says. “But I have sweetened saltwater with food coloring and the grub loaf is staying down, so all is well.” 

“Good,” Karkat says. He sips tea and nibbles at the toast. “Getting you drunk was probably not the best way to show that I intend to take better care of you,” Karkat says a little awkwardly.

Dave shrugs. “I’ve had hangover before,” he says. Then he frowns. “What do you mean by, ‘take better care of you’ master?”

Karkat smiles slightly. “It means I’m going to be very bossy,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last of the really fast updates for a while. I want to work on Safety Dance. (But first you should read Mortior's [Endangered](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1797568/chapters/3854869), otherwise, Nothing Will Make Sense.) And a few other projects.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the likes/kudos/comments! They are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/) or (if you have one) on [dreamwidth](http://othercat.dreamwidth.org/).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: I spoil the ending of Karkat's latest romance novel.

There’s more talking after breakfast. Karkat sets new rules and expectations, creates a schedule for Dave to follow, and assignments for him to complete. Dave is not happy about this. “You’re just telling me to do things I was already doing, master,” he points out.

“Pretty much,” Karkat says. “Only now you’re going to have more oversight.” 

Dave gives Karkat an unreadable look. “That’s it? What about what you were saying last night, about appreciating my company, and…romance.”

“That isn’t part of the schedule,” Karkat says. “Scheduling ‘romance’ is generally a bad idea. Also, telling you not to try to seduce me or be sexually suggestive around me didn’t actually work.” 

“But now it’s okay because you want me after all,” Dave says, not looking at Karkat. 

“What were you trying to do, when you kept flirting when I told you I didn’t want you to, and you didn’t have to?” Karkat asks. 

“I was trying to provoke you,” Dave says. “I figured even if you weren’t acting something out, if it wasn’t some kind of game you were playing, that I didn’t want to risk getting in trouble with Master Makara for not doing what I’d been told to do.” 

“Did you like provoking me?” Karkat asks. 

Dave shrugs, still not looking at Karkat. “It was a thing, to see how flustered you’d get. Or see what you’d say back.” 

“I’m told my rants are very entertaining,” Karkat says drily. “You were testing to see if I was definitely telling the truth about not wanting a concubine, or just playing around until I got worked up enough to attack you?” 

“Kind of what happened isn’t it?” Dave asks with a quick, challenging glance upward. 

“Pretty much what I thought then,” Karkat says with a kind of blunt, angry cheer. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything about ‘romance’ the instant the words came out of my mouth. But I don’t know what the hell else I could have said.”

“I don’t exactly know what you mean by ‘romance,’ master,” Dave says. “Maybe you could explain that?” The tone tries for sarcasm, but also has an underlying uncertainty. 

“It means I want to _court_ you,” Karkat says. “I also want to help you find things to do to replace being a gladiator. I want to take care of you.”

“Which involves giving me a lot of chores and a schedule to follow?” Dave complains, but he doesn’t really sound serious about it. 

“Are you used to more structure in your day?” Karkat asks. 

“I guess,” Dave says, and gives a slight shrug. 

“So now you have more structure,” Karkat says. 

“Thank you so much master,” Dave says in a bored sounding monotone. “So you want to ‘court’ me. What is that going to involve?” 

“Whatever we both want to do,” Karkat says. “Going out to eat or to see a movie, other activities that might be fun for both of us. Arguments and conversations, possibly flirting.”

“And the difference between that and what I was trying to do, master?” Dave asks. 

“Probably not too much, if you don’t actually want to do those things,” Karkat says. “I’d like to earn your trust and fondness at the least.”

“What quadrant though?” 

“No quadrant,” Karkat says. “Like I tried to explain last night, I don’t really experience quadrant-attraction. Or maybe I feel them all at once, so it’s impossible to decide. The only quadrant I have is with Gamzee, my moirail.” 

“You write quadrant romances though,” Dave says. 

“I write the building and establishment of idealized concupiscent and conciliatory relationships,” Karkat says, and laughs. “Any half decent writer can write about an ideal, or write about less than ideal situations related to an idealized relationship. I like to think I am a better than average writer because I can write about things that are very clear to other people but are murky to me.”

Dave frowns thoughtfully, and doesn’t say anything for a while. “So do I…keep flirting, or no?” He asks finally. 

“Do you _want_ to flirt with me?” Karkat asks in return.

Dave shrugs. “I don’t know? I wasn’t thinking whether I liked it or not, I just…let it happen. Like, I mouthed off in the ring, exchanging insults is pretty standard the grosser you are the better. Getting people mad is funny. Getting you mad was funny, and also kinda my job, but I don’t know.” 

“If you want to flirt with me, then flirt,” Karkat says carefully. “If you don’t want to flirt with me, then don’t.” 

“What quadrant though?” Dave asks. There’s a very slight mouth twitch that indicates he’s possibly joking.

“Humans don’t have quadrants, so whatever ridiculous non-quadrant flirting humans use, I guess. If you wanted to flirt with me, that is,” Karkat replies. 

The rest of the evening is quiet. Karkat finishes his edit of his manuscript and sends it to the publisher for editing and review. He answers an e-mail from his publisher about a possible book tour. (This was part of a continuing conversation about the possible book tour. Karkat hates book tours, and has no patience for interviewers, who always seem to ask more questions about his relationship with the Grand Highblood than they do about the book Karkat is trying to promote.) Bonebird will wear him down eventually, she always does, but he isn’t giving up the argument without a fight. He also answers emails from Terezi and Sollux, and works on an outline for his next project.

A few hours later, he gets an alert from Dave’s computer. He’s posted to his blog. Karkat clicks on the link.

various things have been revealed to me the first and foremost being that its very very rude to mention bucket filling activities to your masters moirail even if said bucket filling activities did not actually occur possibly especially if said bucket filling activities didnt occur it was hard to tell which would have been worse

anyway this led to various revelations the first being that my new career is because i am being punished for my temerity in beating not one but two indigoes in combat i will of course not go into the usual boasting about how i wiped the floor with them etc both were tough battles and i followed all the rules the way they were taught to me by my trainers unfortunately none of my trainers really impressed into me that winning depended on what species you were or what caste you were i thought the goal was winning so thats what i did

so the joke is on me i guess

i was angry about being sold away and put in concubine training i was angry about losing my position and no longer being able to fight in the ring i was angry with my new master who didnt want me i was angry with my new masters moirail who bought me i was angry with my old master who sold me

but i think i am less angry now

the second revelation though not really because id already suspected this was the case is that masters moirail thought it would be funny to give a concubine to someone who didnt actually want one a gladiator to someone who was against bloodsports i am the definition of a white elephant gift which means a gift that cant be gotten rid of that you dont actually want especially because it is useless to you so master was about as pleased with the situation as i was

so theres another joke on the both of us i guess

master has been pretty lenient because he didnt want me here but also because he knew I didnt want to be here hes shown me a lot of consideration and i guess im happy about that the third revelation is that apparently boss does in fact want me around, or has come to want me around i have no idea of what this actually means though he has also decided that he has been too lenient so now i have a schedule and chores

The post has comments disabled.

* * *

Karkat reads the post, and then re-reads it. The post was as much a test as it was a venting of emotion and an attempt to work through what had happened. If he was reading this post correctly, Dave was saying, “If I’m _not_ the one in trouble and your morail the Grand Highblood _is_ , then I’ll write a post about how I feel about this entire ocean of bullshit that is my life.” The test was if Karkat would punish him, or if Karkat would let Gamzee punish him for what he’d written. (Karkat was pretty sure Gamzee wouldn’t. The post was the kind of wry understated tone that his moirail found funny.)

The post was possibly one of the more honest ones Dave had made since he started the blog. (He had mostly deflected any questions from curious fans or sports bloggers about his new position. And until now, he had never said anything negative about his former master.) There was a lot of anger in his words, and resentment and frustration. Karkat wondered if it had been _only_ fear that had motivated Dave to continue his seduction attempts despite Karkat telling him he didn’t need to. ( _Not_ attraction. Karkat is not dumb enough to think his fondness might be mutual. Fondness is something he definitely needs to earn, along with things like respect and trust. But he suspects a kind of professional pride and frustration at being given not enough training or materiel to accomplish a difficult task. _Gamzee, what the hell were you thinking?_ )

He thinks about it for a while, and sends a message to Gamzee via one of their drop boxes. The message is: DAVE WROTE A VENT POST. I DON’T THINK HE SAID ANYTHING OUT OF LINE BUT IF YOU THINK HE DID, I ASK THAT YOU PLEASE, PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT IT FIRST AND LET ME HANDLE IT MYSELF. I’LL WRITE YOU A LONGER LETTER LATER, SO DON’T THINK YOU’RE OFF THE HOOK YOU SHAMBLING DISASTER -- KARKAT

He writes a blog post of his own: IT’S BEEN A PERIGEE SINCE MY MOIRAIL GIFTED ME WITH AN EX-GLADIATOR HE HAD TRAINED TO BE MY PITCH CONCUBINE. I WAS NOT VERY HAPPY ABOUT THIS GIFT BECAUSE I HAVE STRONG OPINIONS ABOUT BLOODSPORTS AND ALSO ABOUT OWNING PEOPLE. A PERIGEE LATER, I STILL HAVE STRONG OPINIONS ABOUT BOTH BUT I ALSO HAVE STRONG OPINIONS ABOUT DAVE.

THE PAST PERIGEE HAS NOT BEEN EASY FOR HIM. HE LOST A POSITION AND PLACE HE WAS FAMILIAR WITH, AND THROWN INTO A SITUATION THAT HE DID NOT WANT TO BE IN. DESPITE THAT HE MADE THE BEST ATTEMPT HE COULD TO DO WHAT HE FELT WAS HIS JOB. I WAS JUST AS DETERMINED TO IGNORE OR AVOID ANY ATTEMPT ON HIS PART TO DO SO. THIS WOULD POSSIBLY BE A GREAT PLOT FOR A ROM COM IF THE REALITY OF THE SITUATION WASN’T SO FRUSTRATING AND AGGRAVATING IN WAYS THAT ARE NOT ACTUALLY PITCH.

THE PAST PERIGEE HAS ALSO NOT BEEN EASY FOR ME. I AM NOT USED TO HAVING THE CONSTANT COMPANY OF A PERSON WHO IS NOT IN MY QUADRANT. I WAS ILL AT EASE AND SPENT A GREAT DEAL OF TIME WORKING, INSTEAD OF FINDING WAYS TO MAKE DAVE’S SITUATION MORE PLEASANT FOR HIM. I DID PROVIDE HIM WITH ACCESS TO THE INTERNET AND PHOTOGRAPHY AND FILMING EQUIPMENT, BUT I WENT NO FARTHER THAN THAT. WE DID IN A SENSE SOCIALIZE, BUT I GENERALLY DID NOT TREAT HIM WITH THE REGARD AND CARE THAT I SLOWLY BEGAN TO REALIZE HE DESERVED. I COULD HAVE MADE HIS TRANSITION TO LIVING HERE AND BEING “RETIRED” MUCH MORE EASY THAN I DID, AND I AM EXTREMELY SORRY THAT I DIDN’T TRY HARDER.

DAVE IS AN ADMIRABLE INDIVIDUAL WHO HAS SURVIVED A GREAT DEAL. I KNOW THAT HE WAS A GOOD AND SUCCESSFUL GLADIATOR WHO MIGHT HAVE GONE ON TO DO GREAT AND IMPRESSIVE THINGS AS FAR AS THE RING IS CONCERNED. BUT I FEEL (IN A PITCH WAY) THAT THIS IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH. THAT HE COULD DO MORE THINGS. THAT HE COULD DO OTHER THINGS BESIDES FIGHT IN THE RING. I ALSO FEEL (IN A FLUSH WAY) THAT HE HAS SUFFERED A GREAT DEAL AND I WANT TO DO THINGS THAT WOULD MAKE HIM HAPPIER AND FEEL SAFER, WHATEVER THEY MIGHT BE. 

I ALSO FEEL FOR HIM IN A SOMEWHAT PALE WAY, THE WAY I FEEL FOR ALL OF MY FRIENDS. 

AFTER AN INCIDENT WHERE MY MOIRAIL DECIDED TO TAKE OFFENSE TO COMMENTS MADE BY DAVE, WE ENDED UP TALKING FOR THE FIRST TIME ABOUT THE SITUATION WE WERE IN AND THE DETAILS BEHIND THE SITUATION THAT BROUGHT HIM HERE (AS RELAYED BY MY MOIRAIL WHO FINALLY EXPLAINED WHY HE PICKED THIS PARTICULAR GLADIATOR TO BE MY PITCH CONCUBINE). ON TOP OF THESE REVELATIONS, I ALSO INDICATED THAT MY FEELINGS FOR DAVE HAD CHANGED, WHICH WAS TIMING SO COMPLETELY BAD THAT I MIGHT INVENT TIME TRAVEL THROUGH SHEER EMBARRASSMENT JUST TO TELL MY PAST SELF OFF. AT THE SAME TIME I AM NOT SURE THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER TIME. AS MUCH AS I’VE COME TO APPRECIATE DAVE AS A COMPANION, WE ARE NOT FRIENDS, AND IT WOULD NOT BE OBVIOUS TO HIM THAT MY FEELINGS HAD CHANGED. I WANT TO EARN HIS TRUST AND AT LEAST HIS FRIENDSHIP. I ALSO WANT TO--IN A RIDICULOUSLY MAUDLIN SENSE--GIVE HIM A PURPOSE AND A PLACE IN MY FORMERLY ONE-PERSON HOUSEHOLD.

He reads it over a few times before posting it, and leaves the comments off. He also turns off anonymous messages to the main blog. He almost wants to send a copy to Dave’s e-mail, but restrains himself. 

Dinner is leftovers, and they don’t talk about either blog post. Instead, armed with printed out course information, Karkat asks Dave questions about schoolfeeding courses, and makes suggestions. Dave is cautiously interested but a little dubious at some of the courses suggested. “Why am I taking Modern Literature the Past Fifty Sweeps, Classical Romances, or Creative Writing, master?”

“You’ve shown a general willingness to critique my writing,” Karkat says. “So I thought I’d give you more of a background to judge. You can also take any other class you might be interested in.” 

“Is there a problem with the way I’ve been critiquing your writing, master?” Dave asks, his mouth slanting into a slight smile. 

“Well, you could try sounding a little more highbrow,” Karkat says. “But you do a good job for an amateur book blogger. What I want though, is for you to be my first reader.” 

“There isn’t a lot that’s highbrow about most of your writing, master,” Dave says. “I match my critique to the manuscript.” 

“I write popular, entertaining trash,” Karkat says agreeably. “And some of the popularity is based on who I’m piling. I am not blind to this.” Agreement with a pitch comment could be either a clear rejection, or a goad, traditionally speaking. Karkat wasn’t sure which he meant, and Dave probably didn’t either. This was fine. “What classes do you think you’d like to take?” Karkat asks.

They talk some more about classes and getting Dave signed up for them. Then they played video games, and watched a movie together. Karkat let Dave pick again. This time, Dave picked a space opera with an unusually balanced relationship between the first mate and the helmsman. The helmsman died of course, but the death was actually a surprise when it happened and the way it happened and the cobalt’s grief seemed genuine and affecting. 

* * *

It takes a few days to get used to the new schedule. Dave pushes and tests, does a lot of complaining, mostly about wake up times. “I swear I did not get up this early when I was in training,” he grumbles on the second day as he starts a pot of tea. “Why are we getting up this early?” 

“This is the time I usually wake up,” Karkat says as he makes breakfast. Pre-formed grated root vegetable/arthropod patties were baking in the oven. He was currently frying fish. 

“You’ve been sleeping in then master,” Dave says. “Because you’ve still been in your respite block when I’ve just gotten up.”

“I admit to sleeping in the first few days,” Karkat says. “But I mostly slept in because I stayed up too late because I wasn’t used to having someone who wasn’t my moirail or a friend in my apartment. Later on, I was just going back to my room after a quick shower to exercise.” 

Dave gives Karkat a curious, thoughtful look. “You kinda holed up most of the time until I asked you to come train with me.” 

Karkat thought there was an implied “why” in there somewhere. “That mostly goes back to not being comfortable having someone around I didn’t know very well. I was also trying to reduce the chances of having to put up with the really easy, simple caliginous insults. I’m a short nub-horned peg-toothed mutant. I have heard every possible variation of insult centered on my being a short, nub-horned, peg-toothed mutant, and I didn’t feel like hearing what you might come up with on the topic.”

“I wouldn’t go for the easy insults,” Dave says. “I am totally above that.” 

Karkat snorts and the timer for the vegetable patties go _ding_. “Get that,” he says, and slides the cooked fish fillets onto the plates. 

Dave obeys, getting the pan of vegetable patties out of the oven and sets it on the range. The patties are added to both of the plates. “I mean it though,” he says as he carries the plates to the table. “Making fun of how someone looks is generally not part of my repertoire of insults.” 

“Yes well, I didn’t know that,” Karkat says. “Anyway, I wanted to give you space.” 

“You were hiding from me,” Dave says with a smirk. “You were totally intimidated by my athletic figure and the piercing clarity of my gaze.” 

“That is absolutely true,” Karkat says in a deadpan tone. “I have never met a strong person who knows how to fight before. I have been totally sheltered my entire life, and if you believe that, I also have a genuine blindfold belonging to one of the Blind Prophets I am willing to sell you for a ridiculously low price.” 

The feel of their interactions is different now. Karkat thinks it might be different now. Or maybe the polarity is just reversed from Dave attempting seduction to Karkat expressing attraction. Dave is wary and curious in turns. Karkat tries to respect boundaries and sends Dave things he hopes Dave might find funny or interesting via Trollian. They talk more, they interact more. Dave talks about his classes and where he might like to go for their next outing. Karkat shares bits of conversations he’s had online with his friends, or talks about the book. (It’s gone to the publisher. It will be out in about six perigees. The book tour is definitely going to be a thing that happens.) Dave asks to read it, and Karkat sends him a copy of the manuscript.

“It’s a complete downer,” Dave comments when he’s done. “I mean the last scene is the guy getting executed.” 

“But none of the officers under his command were. They were mostly exiled. Some of his non-coms were culled, but a lot of them survived. His kismesis and moirail both survived and are in hiding at the end. He goes to his death knowing that they’re safe and his command is scattered but alive.” 

“You think it was really like that for the real Janisary guy? ‘Aengus was calm as he stepped up to the platform and the noose was adjusted around his neck. His eyes caught a flash of movement and he looked upward. There was an eagle flying high overhead, and he felt a boundless joy. He heard a thump and was for a moment weightless before gravity took over.’” 

“You have a weirdly accurate memory for someone who says he hated the book,” Karkat says. It was a pretty accurate paraphrase of the last few lines. “There is a debate on whether he was framed or if he actually rebelled against the empire. There are also debates about his actual motivations. The guy was supposed to have been a brilliant strategist, losing on purpose to protect loved ones or because it’s part of a larger goal is a major literary trope.”

“Well, yeah, I hated the book,” Dave says. “You build the guy up, and then knock him down hard. You’re going to have millions of screaming fans. Fans screaming for your head.” 

“I don’t have millions of screaming fans,” Karkat says. “Thousands, maybe.” 

“Crazy fans who want a happier ending and chop off your feet,” Dave says. 

“That’s disturbingly specific.”

“It was from an old vid I watched when I was a kid,” Dave says. “Author meets his biggest fan, who is batshit insane and wants him to rewrite her favorite character so she doesn’t die at the end of the series.” 

“And she never heard of fan fiction?” Karkat asks. 

“I dunno, maybe she wanted it to be canon?” Dave asks. 

Karkat attempts to slowly and carefully introduce Dave to his friends. “Attempts” because once his friends realize that Dave has a Trollian account, Sollux adds himself and the others to Dave’s contact list. (He should not have been able to do that. The account was under administrative lock so only Karkat could add contacts. Karkat immediately changes his passwords and receives an email from Sollux that just has a huge spade in the body.) They immediately start trolling Dave over the next few days. Including Peixes, which causes Dave to literally scream and flail and run around the apartment. “Oh god. Why is the Empress talking to me? Is that really the Empress? Holy _fuck!_ What the hell do I freaking say to the Empress?!”

“Well, you could start with ‘hello, your serenity, to what do I owe the honor of your communication?’” Karkat suggests.

“Oh god,” Dave says. He heads back into his respite block and sits down at the keyboard and gingerly starts typing. 

CC: Katfis)( I can’t B---ELI----EV-----E you told )(im to call me “your serenity!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on [Tumblr](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/) or [dreamwidth](http://othercat.dreamwidth.org/).


	7. Chapter 7

[Responses to video: “next verse same as the first”]

Really enjoyed the vid! I’m seeing some real improvement, compared to “second try at the swaying tree thing” and the first video “what the hell is dancing.” Is the cutie nubs walking by in the background at 6:25 your master? He does not look like he does in his bio if so!

scatteredBrilliance Second Spring 26, 0007 16:25

thanks sb i am finally getting the hang of the seductive dancing™ no one looks like they do in photos if you believed photos you would think that master actually combs his hair which is not a thing ive witnessed him doing since i arrived

cutie nubs

seriously

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 0007 17:01

Lol! I know it’s pitch, but trust me the horns are cute and round, he has a cute padded build, sad scars, sleepy comfort me eyes and I bet he has pettable scowl lines.

scatteredBrilliance Second Spring 26, 0007 17:25

whoa careful there sb master has a moirail a highblood vip moirail wouldnt want my favorite fan to get turned into a greasy smear.

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 0007 17:45

I thought I was your favorite fan TG? Great vid btw!

boneEater Second Spring 26, 0007 17:45

you are also my favorite fan because i do not actually play favorites all my fans are my favorites even fans like stormyCoast who are not supporting me in my new career as caliginous concubine and troll tuber are my very favorites

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 0007 18:09

Ugh<3<

stormyCoast Second Spring 26, 0007 18:25

Meep! O_O; I meant in a general sense of pale attractiveness (and maybe a little flushed)?

scatteredBrilliance Second Spring 26, 18:26

my moves are the sexiest and you know it sc

pretty sure youre safe sb im sure ghb knows his moirail is a hottie with a body just lets keep the lascivious admiration of masters cutie nubs on the down low master reads this blog after all and youll make him blush like the cutest pale ingénue approached by her senpai who wouldnt want to soothe your fierce cobalt rage sir my darling puff pastry of milky cream delight only you can subdue the storm within my soul no one could pap me as you have my white powdered sugared donut

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 0007 18:30

No. Stop it. Stop the graphic conciliatory shit. You are so gross Strider.

stormyCoast Second Spring 26, 0007 18:40

master is a romance novelist sc hes making me take creative writing and literature classes I can no longer help the graphic shit i am up to my eyeballs in graphic shit and i am determined to share the shit all of the shit everyone must know the about the shit sc everyone

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 0007 18:45 

Your dancing does not show the same level of skill you displayed in the arena. Or in practice demonstrations. Caliginious performative dance uses many of the same movements displayed in traditional combative gladiatorial practice. You received traditional training as well as modern.

calmFocus Second Spring 26, 0007 18:50

i only got a perigee of concubine training and while i enjoyed the dance classes theres actually significant differences between traditional sword and actual dancing the biggest being that the motions and poses are a kinda slowed down and telegraphed because they are dance moves not combat moves also there are leaps, flips, jumps and extensions that you would never ever do in actual combat

also i mostly fought modern though theres a lot of videos out there of me doing traditional sword practice 

my first couple videos is admittedly mostly me goofing off then actinicflame and a couple of other pros started giving me advice and tips and i started following them and suddenly im a seductive dance™ machine 

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 0007 19:20

Your traditional sword was very graceful, but I take your point. I confess to having watched your career, and was disappointed to learn that your previous master sold you as a concubine. It does not seem to me a thing you would be suited for, even as a caliginous concubine.

Only a perigee of training? I would in no way question the whimsy of the grand highblood but concubine training should last much longer than that. You barely had time to learn anything.

calmFocus Second Spring 26, 0007 19:30

yeah but you pretty much are questioning him bro lets not and say we did with that or not and say you didnt masters moirail does not tolerate disrespect unless its funny and you are not exactly standup material

okay listen

i am fully aware am not good at being a concubine i am fully aware i dont have the training

but master doesnt want a concubine anyway so im good on that front

sadly master also doesnt want a gladiator either which i actually care about a lot as you might be able to tell from my posts on the subject

i cant even go amateur because well slave and also human and master being disapprove face about it

life could be worse i could be doing mani-pedicures for sewer workers or something

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 0007 19:30

But it’s not your vocation. 

calmFocus Second Spring 26, 0007 19:33

Okay. Wow. If I was this much of a douche in the beginning I am kind of sorry. Except not really because <3<

stormyCoast Second Spring 26, 0007 19:35

That’s really not okay cf. Dave is making the best of a bad situation and doesn’t deserve anyone’s disapproval least of all yours.

Sir.

scatteredBrilliance Second Spring 26, 0007 19: 37

…

i hate to bust your everyone is inclined or provided with or toward their true vocation because loud comical noise but im a slave 

i was kidnapped by raiders who blew up my home station and because i kept trying to fight they sold me to a gladiatorial school where they put a sword in my hand and taught me how to fight and i got good at it and i got scouted by master terhun who got me trainers and equipment and mentored me

but im a slave an if master terhun had wanted me to wash dishes or mow his lawnring thats what id be doing instead

dont get me wrong i like to fight and i think i was a good fighter for my weight height class the ring was exciting and i am pretty pissy about losing the arena and a whole lot of other things but theres a lot of other things im good at and other things im interested in 

master doesnt want a concubine but hes pretty appreciative of my company so what the fuck ever

terminusGladiates Second Spring 26, 19:59

* * *

Karkat sat back in his chair, and stared at the screen for a while. He had known in a general sort of way that Dave had not been born in the Alternian Empire. It had been in his records, “no geneline; originally acquired from independent contractors.” He had been “acquired” from raiders, in other words. It had been before the Challenge, before Feferi had made raiding illegal.

It had been before the peace talks and the first prisoner exchanges. Had Dave watched the repatriation of human slaves on the news feed, humans who had lived in the Empire all their lives, and their parents and grandparents? Karkat can’t imagine what that must have been like, felt like. To see others--his own kind--freed and returned to human space, while he was still captive.

_“I--maybe we could see about sending you home,”_ he had said.

_“That would be a nice offer, if I had one, master,”_ Dave had replied.

Dave had been five sweeps old. A wiggler who’d seen his home destroyed. (Karkat feels almost pale for the child that Dave would have been. A child alone and desperately frightened. There’s anger too, a completely platonic hatred directed at the raiders.) Dave felt he had nowhere to go, believed that he was forever exiled from human space. Karkat wants to know the circumstances of that “murder” Dave claims would get him executed inside human space. Had it been a fight in the arena? Had it been some version of the ancient “strengthening ritual” where reluctant neophyte gladiators were made to killed unarmed criminals and prisoners?

(Karkat wanted to know, but at the same time felt that to ask would be violating Dave’s privacy.)

_because i kept trying to fight they sold me to a gladiatorial school._

_Fight how?_ Karkat wonders. There were some early pictures in Dave’s records, from the gladiatorial school. Dave had been small, skinny but wiry, a tiny angry little fury, but delicate compared to most of the conscripted trolls, even a few of the humans. Dave’s first scars had come from his time with the raiders. Karkat knows the standard procedures of training, of “breaking in.” He has an idea of what the raiders would have done to their captives before selling them. He knows what kind of school feeding would have been employed at the gladiatorial school.

Intellectual knowledge of something isn’t the same as a firsthand account. Dave’s words are simple, bleak and fatalistic in their briefness. They hit Karkat in the gut, a visceral response that was equal parts pity and a shifting black anger. Karkat wants to challenge the fatalism, say: “You _have_ a vocation. You _deserve_ a vocation of your own.” Karkat wants to protect Dave from the commenter and block him from commenting further. Karkat wants to pry out details from Dave, carefully and gently, support him with care and listening. (Soothe him with the reddest of kisses; drown him in kindness and pity.) It’s a sloppy mess of emotions, and he sits there, in the middle of the whirlwind, pity and hate glands stinging his eyes into watery excretion.

He takes a breath, and another, and wipes his face. After thinking about it for a minute he types: LOVED YOUR VIDEO ARE YOU GOING TO PUT THE FURNITURE BACK WHERE IT BELONGS ANY TIME SOON? 

A few minutes later the answer is: i dont know i kind of like the aesthetic of course you could always get me a real dance studio

THERE’S DANCE SPACE IN THE FITNESS CENTER

i dunno if id be comfortable with a potential live audience

YOU DO A LITTLE VICTORY DANCE EVERYTIME YOU BEAT ME WHEN WE SPAR DOWN IN THE FITNESS CENTER I’M PRETTY SURE YOUR VICTORY DANCE IS THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE EVENING FOR MOST OF THE IDLE SPECTATORS WANDERING BY THE SPARRING AREA.

There are a number of comments from Dave’s followers at that. Mostly amused, and there are a few requests for footage of a sparring match. He answers questions, and interjects with comments.

THOUGH DAVE MAKES IT SOUND LIKE I’M FORCING HIM TO READ THE FLUFFIEST Z- GRADE DRECK POSSIBLE HE’S ACTUALLY TAKING CLASSIC AND MODERN LITERATURE COURSES.

NO THEY ARE NOT DRECK DAVE. 

CUTIE NUBS? SERIOUSLY? ALSO MY SCOWL LINES ARE FIERCE AND INTIMIDATING, NOT PETTABLE. 

DAVE, DAVE, DAVE IF YOU WANTED ME TO GIVE YOU WRITING TIPS, YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO EMBARRASS YOURSELF WITH THAT DISPLAY OF SUGARY INEPTITUDE. ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS SAY WAS “PLEASE MASTER, INSTRUCT ME IN YOUR CONSUMMATE STYLE OF CONCILIATORY WRITING…” AND AFTER I GOT DONE LAUGHING MY ASS OFF, SURE I’D BETA YOUR RPS PWP OF YOU AND YOUR IDOL.

HIS IDOL IS LOUD COMICAL NOISE DROWNING OUT THE NAME THAT’S WHO HIS IDOL IS. 

I AM NOT SAYING EITHER WAY IF HE’S WRITTEN ABOUT HIS IDOL IN THIS BLOG. MAYBE HE HAS MAYBE HE HASN’T. THERE IS NO WAY OF KNOWING AND I DON’T ACTUALLY CARE. IT’S SOME FAMOUS GUY I DON’T KNOW.

OKAY IF YOU WANT A HATCHNAME I’LL GIVE YOU A HATCHNAME: AENGUS KADROS.

I’VE SAID THIS A COUPLE OF TIMES BEFORE BUT NO, I’VE NEVER ORDEREDHIM TO DANCE FOR ME. I DON’T FEEL IT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE TO MAKE HIM PERFORM FOR ME. 

NO IT REALLY WOULDN’T.

I REALLY DO THINK YOU SHOULD BE ASKING HIM THAT AND NOT ME.

I KNOW. HE’S SET PRINTOUTS OF IT WHERE I COULD SEE IT. PRETTY OUT OF CHARACTER FOR BOTH OF US, BY THE WAY.

calmFocus makes a few attempts at asking him questions, but Karkat ignores him. Karkat doesn’t want to interfere, and Dave is handling the cobalt fine on his own. (Karkat thinks Dave wouldn’t appreciate the intervention.)

It’s Dave’s turn to make dinner, but Karkat makes it instead. (Telling Dave to just get the furniture pushed back into place.) It’s just a frozen egg tart with strips of fatty meat heated up in the oven, a salad and some dinner rolls with fermented milk lipids and more bits of fatty meat. When he’s done in the meeting block he goes to set the dining area table.

Karkat doesn’t ask questions about what Dave revealed in his comment to calmFocus. He doesn’t try to draw Dave out. It feels wrong to ask for details, to force his pity on Dave, when it’s not being asked for. (And as much as he pities, he also respects Dave’s strength, so he avoids the thing that causes him to feel pity.)

He talks about the book tour instead. The ships and stations, details about their handlers, the news and entertainment shows they’ll be attending. The places they’ll be staying during the trip.

Dave’s a little surprised. “We?” he asks.

“Of course ‘we,’” Karkat says. “Did you want to be left behind?”

Dave shrugs. “Not really? I figured you’d have someone watch me or something though.”

“Then you’re coming with,” Karkat says. “Do you have security concerns?” It was a valid question, given what Gamzee had said or implied about the circumstances surrounding Dave’s change of career.

Dave looks down at his plate, and pokes at his tart with his eating utensil. “What kind of security does the Grand Highblood’s moirail get?” he asks.

“Pretty good,” Karkat says.

“Then I don’t have any concerns, I guess.” Dave says.

After dinner they watch a movie, and Dave leans against him, occasionally shoots him sidelong looks. Karkat shoots questioning looks in return, but doesn’t get an answer. (He has the distinct impression that Dave wants to talk about it, but isn’t ready to talk. Karkat waits, more or less patiently for Dave to say whatever is on his mind.)

“Hey,” Dave says after the movie. There’s a longish pause where Dave looks distinctly nervous, and ridiculously _young_. “You like my dancing, right?”

“I’ve said so before, haven’t I?” Karkat asks. “I mean, I remember doing that a few hours ago. I’m not sure it qualifies as seductive dancing, trademark, but you have skill and talent.”

“You’ve never told me to dance for you, though,” Dave says.

“I told you I didn’t want a concubine, telling you to dance would be requesting your services as a concubine,” Karkat says.

Dave leers. “Does that mean we’re never going to have sex because that would be requesting my services as a concubine?”

Karkat pushes Dave away. “No, we’re never going to have sex because of the expression on your face,” Karkat says. “Do you want to dance for me? I mean, aside from the dancing you already do.”

Dave looks away. “I don’t know. I kind of think of it? I had a couple weird dreams about it? Maybe it’s some weird brainwashing thing. Something is subconsciously telling me _‘dance slave dance for your master, mwah-hahahah,’_ ” Dave says the last in a kid vid villain’s tone of voice.

“I kind of think it’s more likely that you like to show off,” Karkat says. “Because you do it a lot. Either that or you’re just fidgeting very gracefully.”

Dave snorts. “Yeah, that’s it. I have Attentive Dancing Disorder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit me on [Tumblr!](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I also have a [dreamwidth.](http://othercat.dreamwidth.org/)


	8. Chapter 8

Karkat packs for the book tour between reading his email and typing up a blog post. (An advance-copy contest for _A Tale of the Controversial Historical Figure Aengus Kadros Called The Janisary, Featuring his Triumphs and Eventual Defeat and Execution But Also His Covert and Subtle Courtship of his Kismesis, His Vengeance for His Matesprit and His Defiance of the Empress, with Moderate Historical Accuracy, Supporting the Theory That He Truly Rebelled Rather Than Being Framed and a Tragic Ending With Some Implication of Grace in the Ancient Warrior Traditions of the Northern Continent..._ ) The calmFocus guy sends Karkat a private message on his blog:

I am unsure as to why you are refusing to engage with my comments to you in the thread. You’ve responded to every other commenter in the thread, even the highblood who is flirting with your concubine in pitch. Except in questioning the grand highblood’s whimsy, I do not feel I have been speaking out of turn, nor have I spoken in a way that requires the lowblood conversational gambit of preemptive disengagement. I request a response for the following:

You’ve stated that you don’t want him as a concubine, yet he is apparently self-training himself for the role, would you mind addressing this?

You claim to be “aquadratic” yet you’re apparently pitch flirting with Dave in this thread. You also claim to have concupiscent feelings for him. How does that work?

Would you mind addressing the reason why the Grand Highblood chose to only give Dave Strider a perigee of training?

Have you thought of entering him in a sword drill competition or an exhibition? It wouldn’t be the same as being in the ring of course, but it might make him happier to use his favored weapon outside of exercise.

I have noticed a lack of drive and focus since Dave Strider came into your possession. He almost seems ashamed of his career, possibly due to your contempt for the ring. Do you feel you are improving him as a rival by causing him to feel ashamed for his former career?

You don’t want him to be a concubine, but it’s clear you’re training him for something. Is this confusion in your behavior part of being “aquadratic?”

Karkat responds:

AND YOU’RE ENGAGING IN THE HIGHBLOOD CONVERSATIONAL TACTIC OF WAVING YOUR BLOOD CASTE AROUND LIKE IT MEANS ANYTHING.

REQUEST DENIED BECAUSE OF THE FOLLOWING:

YOU LITERALLY HAVE NO AUTHORITY TO REQUEST SHIT OF ME.

I DO NOT ACTUALLY HAVE TO INTERACT WITH YOU FOR REASON WHY SEE ABOVE.

I HAVE NO ACTUAL DESIRE TO ANSWER ANY OF YOUR BULLSHIT COMMENTS OR QUESTIONS. FOR REASON WHY, AGAIN, SEE ABOVE.

DAVE IS DOING A PRETTY GOOD JOB OF HANDLING YOUR BULLSHIT ON HIS OWN. 

YOU’RE AN UNFUNNY TOOL

IN ADDITION:

YOU CAN TAKE YOUR SARCASTIQUOTED “AQUADRATIC” FUCKERY AND STICK IT UP YOUR WASTECHUTE ALONG WITH YOUR BULGE.

calmFocus replies fifteen minutes later. It’s a non-apology with more questions and superior to inferior chiding for his lack of manners. (“While a lowblood may refuse to answer a request for a response from a highblood, the refusal, however rude, should be phrased in the correct mode. I am old, and certainly old fashioned but this new “casteless/anonymous” mode is as childish as the “anonymous text” custom that preceded it.”) Karkat is less than impressed. In an inferior to superior mode that was an insulting two steps higher than cobalt warranted, Karkat replies, I SHOULD RESPECT YOUR OPINION WHY, HIGHNESS?

Then he blocks him and goes back to his email. 

CC: CarpKat!

CC: http://bitty.comVantranslated !!!

CG: THE HELL? 

CC: Mr. S)(irogane t)(e UPT Ambassador broug)(t it to my attention! You are apparently t)(e first Troll aut)(or to )(ave )(is works )(it it big outside of xenology/psyop circles! Conc)(gratulations!

CG: YEAH BUT ITS PIRATED COPIES I’M NOT GETTING PAID FOR SO YOU’LL EXCUSE ME IF I’M NOT EXACTLY THRILLED.

CC: T)(ere are more important t)(ings t)(an caegars Karkat! Like leveraging t)(e peace process!

CC: Cultural exc)(ange! Diplomacy! Creating good relations wit)( t)(e UPT!

CC: In t)(e name of all of t)(ose good t)(ings, I )(ave spoken wit)( your publis)(er and slig)(tly )(ijacked your book tour! Your last stop will be a book signing on t)(e Flags)(ip, a state dinner w)(ere you’ll be sitting next to t)(e UPT Ambassador, followed by marc)(ing orders and a press conference.

CG: ...MARCHING ORDERS?

CC: I will tell you w)(en you get )(ere!

CG: WHY AM I GOING TO BE SITTING NEXT TO THE UPT AMBASSADOR? 

CC: Because of your books becoming popular t)(ere, dummy!

CG: AND WHAT ABOUT THE MARCHING ORDERS?

CC: I WILL T------ELL YOU W)(-------EN YOU G------------ET )(-------------ER------E!

CG: FINE YOUR WILL IS USUALLY CONSIDERED TO BE SOMETHING I AT LEAST LISTEN TO EMPRESS.

CC: As it s)(oald be!

* * *

The trip is the usual “what is this mutant doing in first class” hell. There’s security and handlers and Bonebird’s people handling the details. There are some familiar faces and some new ones. The new curiosity is Dave, looking sharp in red and black, rubies glittering in his ears, shades dark and unreadable over his eyes. Karkat feels a little rougher next to Dave, but not nearly enough to dress up if he doesn’t have to yet. 

Dave has an objection, because of course he does. “So do all Troll romance authors try to cultivate a world weary veteran look?” He asks while they’re settling into their suite on the liner. It’s small, only one bedroom, because Bonebird was apparently under the impression that they’d only need one bedroom when she’d had the tour arranged. The only thing they’d been able to find for Dave to sleep on was a large lusus sleeping pad. 

Karkat glares at Dave. “I’m not cultivating a world weary veteran look.”

Dave looks him up and down. “And yet.”

 _I am_ actually _a world weary veteran,_ Karkat thinks, but doesn’t say. “And what in your sartorial experience do you recommend?” 

A brief flash of a smile from Dave as he gestures toward the outfit Karkat is currently wearing. “Not that.” 

“This is a perfectly adequate traveling outfit,” Karkat says. 

“Yeah, if you’re a rust going to Arlen Colliseum in the cheap seats,” Dave says. 

“A world weary rust veteran,” Karkat says. “Sounds fine to me. Maybe he bumps into a former squadmate and they realize some romantic spark between them.”

Dave snorts. “What you need is some bling, master.” 

“Bling,” Karkat says flatly. 

“Yeah, I got just the thing, too.” Dave produces his traveling jewelry case from his sylladex. After some rummaging around, he comes up with a horn ring and a matching bracelet, both set with red stones--probably garnets. 

“Why do you have a horn ring?” Karkat asks. 

“They were willed to me, only it wasn’t actually a will, it was more like, ‘okay, give Strider the horn ring and bracelet set, and we should be done with dividing Gallen’s belongings.’ For a while I was wearing the horn ring on a gold chain.” He makes a sort of offering gesture with the jewelry in his hand. “Want to see how they look?” 

“Sure.” Karkat almost wants to ask Dave who Gallen had been, but he doesn’t. Maybe he had been a rival, maybe a hatefriend. Someone that Dave had cared about, possibly, that Dave didn’t want to talk about. (Was it a sign of esteem that he wanted Karkat to wear them?)

Dave doesn’t just want to hand Karkat the jewelry; he also wants to put them on. Dave’s fingers brush against Karkat’s wrist as he fastens the bracelet, part Karkat’s hair away from the horn as he fastens the horn ring. Then Dave sort of herds him into the ablution block to take a look. Karkat goes along with it.

Karkat doesn’t see much of a difference, but Dave makes a sign of approval at him in the ablution block mirror. “There, see? Big improvement! You look like you’ve got things going on now.” 

“As if the security detail and entourage didn’t tell them anything,” Karkat says dryly. “But I guess I look pretty good. Maybe I’ll wear them for _Anshok,_ or _Quadrant Revue_.”

“You’re going to be on _Anshok?”_ Dave asks, impressed. 

“I think that’s one of the shows I’m supposed to be on,” Karkat says. 

Dave’s mouth twitches. “I get the feeling you don’t like book tours all that much.”

“If you’re only figuring it out now, you must have been hit too hard too many times in the head,” Karkat says. “They spend more time talking about the Grand Highblood and my relationship with him than they do my books.” The other questions they asked were about the Signless Cult …which was something else Karkat didn’t want to talk about. “Gamzee would call into the show if he was in range and ask me questions about the book I was trying to hawk, since ‘the interrogating sib wasn’t doing their job.’”

Dave makes a noise like a choked off laugh. “That’s almost cute.” 

“Gamzee is not cute,” Karkat says automatically. “He’s a ridiculous wreck of a troll. And his questions usually would have required me to give away spoilers. He was the sounding board for my first books.” 

“Was he now,” Dave says in a neutrally skeptical tone. 

Karkat gives Dave a look. “Gamzee is actually really good at cutting the bullshit out of a story,” he says. 

Dave makes a placating gesture. “Sorry master. Master Makara just didn’t seem like the romantic literature type to me.” 

“He’s not, but he’s always liked my stories,” Karkat says. 

Instead of talking about the Grand Highblood, the interviewers want to talk about Dave. They want to talk about Karkat’s opinions on bloodsports, they want to ask about his opinions on slavery and indentured service. They want to ask him questions about human presence in the Empire, and the recent reports of the Empress’ interest in the humans “given” to the UPT. 

They ask him about the Signless. (He reminds them he’s restricted by Imperial Edict from talking about the Signless. Yes, even though the Empress wears a Signless pin. No he doesn’t feel the edict is a burden or a restriction of his rights as a troll. Yes, he will comment about his status as a mutant as long as it doesn’t lead to any questions about the Signless.) 

They do eventually ask about the book, in most cases. Most often after Karkat has broadly hinted he will walk off the stage if they don’t ask questions about the damn book. He does not actually have to walk off the stage, though it’s a close call. 

“So, the Signless?” Dave asks after the first interview where the Signless was brought up. 

“A semi-mythical figure I am banned from talking about,” Karkat says. “The titular founder of the cult that bears his name.” 

“Can I ask why you’re banned from talking about him?” Dave asks. 

“You can ask, but I can’t answer,” Karkat says, smiling slightly. “Have you heard about the cult?” The possibility of the cult having a foothold among gladiators isn’t too unlikely. 

Dave immediately looks liked the definition of: _whoops._ “I uh. Can’t really answer that question. I mean, there’s lots of weird Troll cults, who even knows master, I don’t pay attention.”

“That’s fine, I wouldn’t care if you did know about them,” Karkat says. “Since the cult isn’t anathema anymore.” 

“Well, I’ve heard of it,” Dave admits. 

Karkat nods. He thought that Dave probably didn’t know enough about it to have recognized Karkat’s sign, or known to make any connections. That was…fine. Karkat doesn’t know what he would have done if Dave had been a member of the cult. (Karkat is reasonably sure Gamzee would not have done that to him, even to be funny.) 

Karkat gets settled into the usual pattern of ship, hotel, talk show, ship, hotel, speech about writing. The pattern is a little more enjoyable with Dave around. Dave usually sleeps out in meeting block of the suite and takes it upon himself to drag Karkat out of the ‘coon in the evening. They exercise, go to breakfast, do a little explorations of the sites of wherever they end up. Dave is used to the security perimeter and is so relaxed about it, that Karkat’s usual tension about a security perimeter _he can see_ lessens. 

At Rhocal Station, they get invited to dinner by retired champion gladiator Truesteel. Dave is over the moons. Karkat is considerably more cautious, and extremely confused. (The guy is famous and rich, according to Trollpedia pretty eccentric. Maybe he’s just curious about Dave?) He’s inclined to refuse out of hand, but this is something Dave is clearly excited about, so he agrees on the condition that security agrees to it. 

Security agrees. 

The dinner takes place in the private room of an expensive restaurant. At Dave’s insistence Karkat is wearing clothes that Karkat had been planning on wearing at the end of their tour, for Feferi’s diplomatic thing. Dave is wearing his very best suit and award medals on a sash. “This is nuts. This is crazy. Truesteel is like super traditional. Oh my god. What if he’s like the guys who wanted me out of the ring? What if he challenges me to a duel? Oh my god,” Dave mumbles under his breath as they’re shown to the private room. 

Karkat is torn between pretending he can’t hear the mumbling, and taking Dave aside for some not entirely platonic papping. Before he can make a decision, they’re in the private room, where a tall, very broad, elderly but still very fit cobalt is waiting for them. Truesteel is standing by a chair, and he gives them a very slight nod. “Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider, thank you for accepting my invitation,” Truesteel says, and sits. 

After a moment of hesitation, Dave pulls out a chair for Karkat. Once Karkat is seated, Dave sits. “It was pretty unexpected, but Dave was really excited about it, so we went ahead with it,” Karkat says. 

“You’re a very kind master,” Truesteel says. “I’ve read some of your blog and you’re very disapproving of bloodsports in general.” 

“I’m disapproving of the unfairness I see, the manipulation and coercion that goes on, and the treatment of the gladiators,” Karkat says. “I don’t disapprove of the athletes who fight in the ring. Dave admires you greatly, and it would be petty not to let him meet his hero.” 

“I see,” Truesteel says. A silent server presents them with menus and a selection of drinks. “They do a very good clay roasted webfooted honkbeast here.” 

“Maybe I’ll try it. Dave, what looks good to you?” 

They talk about the food and what they’re going to order, and then order food and drink. The conversation wanders a little bit, stiff in places where “traditional” manners don’t really fit in with the post-Revolution version. They’ve been invited as a curiosity, Karkat is pretty sure. Dave asks shy questions about Truesteel’s career, and things relax a little. No surprise the cobalt would like to talk about himself. 

Karkat’s a little surprised to get asked questions about his writing. “I’m only a recent follower of your work,” Truesteel says. “What I’ve seen is very good. The dynamics between your characters are very interesting, and not what I expected.” 

“What did you expect?” Karkat asks carefully. 

“Well, while you do question the hemospectrum and societal mores, you examine rather than saying ‘that’s bad, this is bad, that is very bad.’ In recent literature I’ve mostly seen the opposite approach, which I don’t care for.” 

“I can’t speak to what other people are writing,” Karkat says. “Though there can be a place and time for standing on soapboxes. I try to get across in my writing that everyone is affected by systems and institutions that can be harmful, even if they might have been intended otherwise at some point. Also, I’m writing romances here, not political critique, so that tends to get put aside in favor of character dynamics.” 

They talk in that vein for a good while, while the food arrives and they eat. The talk returns to bloodsports, with Truesteel asking Dave detailed questions about his career. Dave takes the questions like he’s expecting to be graded on his answers. He almost looks like he’s going to faint when Truesteel says that he’d been following Dave’s career, and speaks at length about a piece of fanmail that Dave apparently sent him when he’d been a child. 

The dinner ends with Truesteel making a small confession. “I’m glad to be making your in-person acquaintance,” he says. “I fear that I greatly misrepresented myself to you previously.”

“Really?” Karkat asks. “How so?”

“I am ‘calmFocus,’” Truesteel says. “My moirail also wishes to tender her apologies for not keeping a closer eye on me. I was in a very angry state of mind and spoke more condescendingly than I should have. I knew something of the situation that led to Strider’s removal from the ring, and thought it extremely unfair. As a result I thought very unkind things about his situation, which did not get better on first perusal of your blogs, and the tone regrettably came out in my writing.” 

“I see,” Karkat says. “The tone on my blog is generally abrasive, so I’m sorry for that.” 

“If it’s okay for me to say it, I wasn’t insulted. I could see you weren’t trying to be offensive, it was just coming out that way,” Dave says. 

“It’s indeed ‘okay,’” Truesteel says with a slight smile. “I and my moirail would enjoy your company, should you return to Rhokal Station on your way back to Elretus.” 

“We’re honored by your moirail’s invitation, sir,” Karkat says. After more very polite farewells, Karkat and Dave head home. 

“That was…wow,” Dave says collapsing on the couch once they get back to the hotel. 

“Definitely something if you’re speechless,” Karkat says. 

“There are no words. I am without words. All the words are gone,” Dave says. “How many variations of that do you think I can come up with?” 

“Let’s pretend we calculated, and don’t,” Karkat says, and starts to struggle out of his fancy clothes. Dave gets up to help, and things go a bit easier from there. 

* * *

After two more stops their liner rendezvous with the Flagship, and he and Dave are transferred over to the Flagship via shuttle. Feferi meets them as they debark from the shuttle. She’s taller and curvier , her highblood growth spurt just starting to kick in. She’s dressed in casual (for a seadweller), comfortable looking clothes and immediately pulls him into a hug while reporters’ posterity devices go off. Karkat hugs her back, patting the heavy silk waves of her hair. “Hey Fef,” he says, low enough that the reporters aren’t likely to hear, and be scandalized. Feferi’s guards are well past being scandalized.

“Catfish, it’s good to see you!” Feferi says, loud enough for the reporters to pick it up, and then holds out her hands to Dave. “And it’s good to meet you in pierson, Mr. Strider!”

Dave clasps Feferi’s hands after a moment of stunned hesitation. “Empress,” he says, and gives Karkat a desperate _oh god what do I say_ look. “It’s an honor to finally make your acquaintance in person,” he manages after about a minute of helpless staring.

“Now staff will get your things, and I’ll spirit you right past the media,” Feferi says. “Ready?” 

Karkat nods and follows at Feferi’s heels while she strides aloofly past the reporters, her personal guard closing ranks around her and her guests. The reporters mostly give up after the first few scattered questions are imperiously ignored. Dave follows along, trying not to look around like a rube at the interior of the Flagship. 

“The book signing and banquet are tomorrow,” Feferi says. “Bonebird gave me an advance copy of the book and you are _completely_ horrible and I hate you.”

“So you liked it?” Karkat asks. 

“Yes I liked it. You’re still horrible. I’m going to be first in line for the book signing,” Feferi says. She talks about the book and quadrant gossip. She asks him how he’s been doing, and asks Dave the occasional question as she walks them through the second layer of security that separated her section from the rest of the ship, and to the door of their room. “Would you like to join me for an informal dinner?” Feferi asks. “It’s in a few hours.”

“Of course,” Karkat says. Feferi bends down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and absconds with her guards. 

“So, uh, nickname basis with the Empress?” Dave asks once she’s gone. “That’s pretty impressive.” 

“She’s my hatefriend as well as the Empress,” Karkat says. “Feferi likes to make a point of it sometimes.” 

“Can I ask a kind of rude question?” Dave asks once they're inside.

“Sure.” 

“Okay, I noticed that your friends all got rewarded with official positions, right? For their service to the then-Heiress and so on. How come all you got was being hatefriends and nickname use?” 

“Are you feeling sympathetic toward me, Dave?” Karkat asks, amused. “Outraged over my apparent ill use at the hands of my hatefriends?” 

“Maybe I am,” Dave says, a little defensively. “Just, it seems weird, and then you’re not allowed to talk about someone who might be, and probably is your Ancestor, so that seems even weirder since highbloods are all about their Ancestors and even some lowbloods are. So. What’s with that?”

“I wanted an ordinary life,” Karkat says, and can’t help the smile. “Well as ordinary a life as you can have when your idiotic moirail is also the Grand Highblood. I wanted to write romance novels and argue with people about things I didn’t agree with, and have that argument and the opinions behind the argument be those of a perfectly ordinary romance writer. No greater purpose, no destiny. It was a selfish wish, but Feferi and Gamzee were able to grant it.”

Dave blinks. “Okay, putting two and two together and coming up with maybe four and a half, you’re kind saying that you would have had some kind of greater purpose or destiny, but you didn’t want it? Which makes sense if your Ancestor is the guy you’re not allowed to talk about.”

“That’s more or less what I’m saying,” Karkat says. 

“I’m not sure if that’s a really brave thing to want, or a really stupid one,” Dave says. 

Karkat laughs. “You sound a lot like Sollux,” he says.

“Sollux seems like a pretty together guy,” Dave says. 


	9. Chapter 9

Karkat and Dave arrive at the door to Feferi’s royal suite, and are ushered in by a cobalt butler. “Her Majesty is in the parlor with the other guests,” the cobalt says. 

“Other guests?” Karkat asks. 

“Takashi Shirogane, the Ambassador of the United Planets of Terra, and Lady Pyrope the Imperial Legislacerator,” the cobalt says. 

“Just an informal get together,” Karkat says. 

“Indeed, sir,” the cobalt says, and shows them into the parlor. It’s an oblong block with silver on gray painted walls, stained glass lamps, black and silver furniture, intricately patterned rugs on the deck. The human ambassador and Terezi are sitting on opposite ends of a couch, while Feferi sits in a throne-like padded armchair. 

The cobalt starts to announce Karkat and Dave, but is interrupted by Terezi who jumps up from the couch and immediately clasps Karkat’s hands. “Karkles!” She says cheerfully, and tilts her head for an informal hornlock that Karkat has no trouble getting out of--on the few benefits of having nubs, nothing to really catch. She moves on to Dave with a brilliant grin. “Strider! I’m glad to finally sniff you in person,” she says, clasping Dave’s hands and leaning in for an exaggerated sniff. (Dave is startled, but recovers immediately.) “I hope you have been _extremely_ annoying to our adorabloodthirsty lusus-friend!” 

“To the best of my ability, Lady Pyrope,” Dave says with a smirk. 

“His best isn’t even close to your worst, Terezi,” Karkat says. “Lusus-friend, really?” 

“I seem to recall definite custodial behaviors on your part, Karcrab,” Feferi says. “‘When was the last time you ate?’” 

“‘For fuck’s sake sit down you have a concussion!’” Terezi quotes. “Has Karkat fussed at you yet Strider?” she asks. 

“Not as such, Lady Pyrope,” Dave says with a sidelong glance at Karkat. “He’s cut me off and tucked me into bed when he thought I’d had too much to drink once or twice though.” 

“Ha!” Terezi says, and nudges the both of them toward the human ambassador, who has risen to his feet. The Ambassador is tall for a human, with dark eyes and hair, except for a white patch at the temples. His left arm is a prosthetic of Alternian design, and he has an exceptional slashing scar balanced right above his nose. (It was a good scar, the kind that would seem pitiable or intimidating depending on the bearer’s expression. Karkat was envious. His scars just made him look more irritable.) “Mr. Shirogane, Karkat Vantas, former right hand of the Heiress, author of _The Great Wave that Overcomes the High Shore Which is a Metaphor that Illustrates the Conflict Between a Young Sea Prince and a Landdweller War Chief in a Time of Fell Sorcery and Superstition Before the First Empires a Tale of Caliginous Romance with Three Extended Battle Scenes, Two Duels, A Non-Fatal Attempt at Auspicstism that Results in A Better Understanding of Kismesistude, the Development of a Most Unusual Moiraillegiance and an Established Red Romance,_ and _A Tale of Treachery and Deceit in Which a Young Highblood Finds Himself in an Abusive Moiraillegiance and is Manipulated in a Cruel Fashion by His Lower Caste Moirail, Who Takes Control of His Finances and Leaves Him Impoverished in His Own Hive. He Escapes and Eventually Finds a True Moiraillegiance Who Leads Him to Fill His Other Quadrants and Regaining his Fortune from His False Moirail._ Otherwise known as _‘The High Shore,’_ and _‘Deception’_ in English, and variations of same in Chinese, Arabic and Spanish.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vantas,” the Ambassador says, and holds his right hand out. Karkat reaches out to shake it after a moment. 

“Likewise, Mr. Shirogane,” Karkat says. “This is Dave Strider--” 

“Master Vantas’ caliginous concubine,” Dave says with an odd note of challenge in his tone. He bows slightly, not taking his eyes off the Ambassador, instead of offering his hand to be shaken. 

Karkat doesn’t quite understand the note of challenge, but remembers Dave’s ambivalence about manumission, at the idea of being returned to human space. (His belief that he’d be arrested and executed if he went back to human space because he’d killed another human.) He could see that Dave was tense, and trying to hide how uneasy he was just now. “My moirail decided I needed companionship, and Dave needed a permanent retirement from the ring,” Karkat says to the Ambassador, who is frowning slightly. 

“I see,” the Ambassador says. “It’s also a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Strider.” 

“Likewise,” Dave says. 

Conversation limps along, with Terezi and Feferi playing mediator. The Ambassador is curious and polite, Dave is tense, and Karkat finds himself answering a lot of questions about his books, and his part in the Heiress’ Challenge and the ending of the war between the UPT and the Empire. The Ambassador talks about joining the diplomatic corps after having been a prisoner of war for about a sweep. “I and a few other members of my unit were recruited? Conscripted as gladiators--” 

“No you weren’t,” Dave interjects. “You were prisoners _fighting_ gladiators. Military chains are half-assed criminal ‘independents’ and prisoners who never saw the inside of a reputable training school thrown into a meatgrinder.” 

“Are non-military rings different?” the Ambassador asks. “‘Civilian’ rings also throw in prisoners, don’t they?” 

“Those are execution duels,” Dave says. “Not random bullshit melees. Not meatgrinders.” 

“The owner of the ‘chain’ I was in didn’t make that kind of distinction. We were all referred to as gladiators.” 

“Yeah, well, military chain,” Dave says. “Every time I took a challenge from an independent from a military chain, I had to watch out for some kind of half-assed bullshit because the fucker thought he was going to be facing some gimp with one hand tied behind his back.”

“Well, I wasn’t a gimp,” the Ambassador says with a grim kind of smile. “And they didn’t need to have one hand tied behind my back. I managed to kill the Champion of the ship I was a prisoner on, which more or less made me the new Champion.” 

“Karkles, remember the human Vriska wouldn’t shut up about? Whitemark?” Terezi asks, and points at the Ambassador. “The guy who staged an insurrection at the same time that Vriska attacked _Willful Disregard for Quarter?_ And refused to surrender when Vriska boarded?” 

“I couldn’t be sure that surrendering wouldn’t have gotten me and what was left of my crew in a worse situation than the one we were in,” the Ambassador says with a slight smile. 

* * *

Karkat ends up playing auspistice all through the day, during dinner and after. Dave is angry, challenging, his questions bordering on rude. Shirogane’s responses are firm, his temper clearly held in check. The topic ranges from gladiatorial combat and the divide between military and civilian run rings to school feeding. Shirogane’s questions are polite, though Karkat suspects many of them were aimed with intent to cause discomfort. Karkat mediates and Feferi and Terezi watch with great interest and absolutely no intention to help. 

“Is there something I’m missing here?” Karkat asks after the third or so go around. “Is there some ancestral enmity between your tribes or whatever?” 

“Well there was an incident involving a bombing, but that’s old news,” Dave says. 

“I was born in Denver, Colorado,” Shirogane says evenly. “My family has been American since the early 1900s. “ 

“Shit, my bad,” Dave replies, looking honestly embarrassed. “You can tell I’m white.” 

(Terezi gives a sharp bark of laughter and says, “if anything you’re black!” and Feferi elbows her in the ribs.) 

“So it’s caste enmity?” Karkat asks. 

“Nah, I’m white space trash. He’s a home world starship trooper,” Dave says. “Any enmity is because the border was pretty ragged and UPT forces couldn’t be everywhere at once.” 

“And I was able to go home?” Shirogane asks sympathetically. 

“Nah,” Dave says easily, casually. (The casual is a lie; Karkat can see the faint tenseness in the way Dave holds himself.) “I won’t say it didn’t burn watching the prisoner exchanges, and the gifts the Empress sent to the UPT--but I got no home to go back to.” 

Shirogane frowns. (Possibly at the word “gifts.” The humans repatriated to human space had been that, more or less: hence why Feferi was taking an official interest in their welfare.) “I won’t say it hasn’t been difficult for the repatriated to find new lives for themselves, because it has been, but--” gives Karkat an almost guilty look before continuing. “Wouldn’t it be better to be free?” 

“Being alive is preferable to being dead,” Dave says, voice flat. “I killed another human in cold blood when I was five and a half sweeps. I’d be executed if I went back to human space.” 

“They did do the strength ritual,” Karkat says, angry for Dave, for the wiggler who’d been coerced and manipulated into fighting, killing in the ring. “Dave--” 

“He deserved it,” Dave says, angry, gaze averted. “I--they said there were human pirates, who helped the troll pirates. He was one of them. I wanted to kill him, but I wouldn’t be able to ever go home if I did. Murder is illegal for humans. I didn’t care. He deserved it, okay? It was worth it. Even if my career is fucked up the ass and--and your moirail decided you needed a kismesis it was worth it. I’d kill him again, hire a necromancer and double kill him.” 

“If he was a human pirate, he deserved it,” Karkat says. His tone is a little too gentle, and his phrasing a little too doubtful. 

“They didn’t lie,” Dave says. “They didn’t. I was sold to a _reputable_ schoolfeeder.” 

Like that was the most important thing, and maybe it was, for him. Something to hold onto, a little bit of unexpected luck. Not ending up in a meatgrinder. Not ending up in a substandard schoolfeeder. He would have been told how lucky he was. “Yeah but I don’t care, as you know,” Karkat says, hoping to distract Dave a little. Get Dave back on familiar ground. “It’s still coercive bullshit.” 

“Yeah well, you think everything about the sport is coercive bullshit,” Dave says. “And that ain’t necessarily so.” 

“Mister Strider,” Shirogane says. “From what you’ve said, you’ve been given a very inaccurate view of how murder cases are prosecuted in human space. You certainly wouldn’t be instantly executed, and given the--the circumstances I doubt there would be much in the way of a penalty. You were a minor and being coerced--” 

“I wasn’t,” Dave insists, voice shaky. “I wanted to kill him more than I wanted to maybe go back to the UPT. Shit. I haven’t freaked out about it since I was six--” 

“You’ve been doing nothing but freaking out about it since you were introduced,” Karkat says. Dave gets a look of realization on his face combined with horror. _I am in so much fucking trouble,_ the look on his face says. Karkat starts to reassure him but Feferi interjects. 

“Right in front of the fish of fishes too,” Feferi says. “But it’s good you had it all out here, right? You can be all formal at the dinner tomorrow right?” 

Dave looks completely mortified. “I--what--yes Empress--” 

“You can use my hatchname,” Feferi says. “If you want!” Dave manages a weak _yes Mistress Peixes,_ which Feferi pronounces “close enough!” Feferi takes over the conversation, talks combat exhibitions, combat scenes in movies, and talks about books. 

It’s late when they get back to their suite and Dave is quiet and withdrawn. He doesn’t want to talk, and Karkat gives him his space. He goes to ‘coon and isn’t really surprised when he wakes up in the early evening to angry mumbling and pacing coming from the living block. He wipes off and shrugs into a robe and heads into the ablution block, pretending he is not at all interested in the content of the mumbling, which is a mass of tangled English and Alternian. The gist of the mumbling is that Dave is embarrassed about last day, angry with himself, and angry in general. A loudly announced, “I’m ordering breakfast!” does not stop the flow of words. 

Karkat orders breakfast items that he knows Dave likes, and gets dressed before going to the living block. Dave is still pacing, still muttering, though it’s less angry and more freestyle. “Dave,” Karkat says. “Hey.” 

“--creepy mindwitch bullshit. ‘I am an expert interrogator Dave you have told me everything about you while trying not to say much of anything at all!’ Why is it always the teals who are so fucking perceptive they don’t usually get the psychic stuff or the telekinetic bullshit--evening master,” Dave says, and keeps mumbling, mostly on the subject of teals. 

“What were you talking to Terezi about?” Karkat asks. 

“Everything apparently,” Dave says, holding his hands out to indicate “everything.” 

“That’s something you get used to,” Karkat says. “Terezi homes in on all kinds of brain bullshit like a finbeast scenting blood.” 

“She should keep her pointy nose out of my brain bullshit,” Dave says. “I’m not--I was being stupid last night, I know. I fucked up.” 

“It’s okay,” Karkat says. “I didn’t mind going ashen, between you and the Ambassador, is what I’d be saying if you were a troll.” 

“Was it good for you, master?” Dave asks flippantly. “I aim to please. Pitch challenge shenanigans for you to conciliate all club- ways.” 

Karkat snorts. “You weren’t issuing a pitch challenge last night you were responding pre-emptively to a nonexistent rejection, and maybe acting out due to being accidentally insulted on a professional athlete level.” 

Dave gives him a suspicious look. “Did you talk to Mistress Pyrope too?” 

“Amazingly, I can figure things out myself, without help from excessively perceptive teals,” Karkat says. 

* * *

The book signing is after breakfast and as promised, Feferi is at the head of the line. She wants to talk spoilers and fanfic, and hangs out at the table like she wasn’t the Empress. (No one is actually allowing her to not be the Empress except Karkat.) Next are a handful of seadweller ministers and courtiers who may or may not be actual fans, then indigoes and then cobalt. Karkat talks to everyone in the same mode. “Why are they lining up by caste?” Karkat asks Feferi. It wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before, but never so completely organized. It was the same number of people for each caste, moving in tight little color coordinated blocks. 

“It started as a sharky little protest against e-gale-atarian reform,” Feferi says. “All of them presenting business and cases by caste color, all giving way to each other and shore on! So I made like it was a pretty rain-blowfish and added union and faction leaders from the other castes to be representatives to my Court,” Feferi says. “I would have added them anyway, but the Court’s stupid little protest gave me the excuse to do it sooner.” 

“Aesthetic as social reform,” Karkat says, and shakes his head. 

Feferi laughs and leans in close to whisper, “It’s nautical a bronze Seine-netter but it’s maybe a few steps in that direction.” 

The UPT Ambassador makes an appearance just behind the cobalt block. “I wanted to apologize for last night,” Shirogane says. “I hope Mr. Strider isn’t in trouble?” The human’s dark eyes are concerned. 

“It was a little ashen, but I wasn’t offended,” Karkat says. “Strider isn’t in trouble. A little embarrassed, but not in trouble. I hope you weren’t offended?” 

“More confused than anything, and a little angry at the time but not offended,” Shirogane says. “I have no pitch intentions toward Mr. Strider. I’m sorry for…the cinders in your coal?” The ambassador smiles, his dark eyes bright with a cautious humor. 

“He doesn’t have any toward you,” Karkat says. “He’s…been through a great deal.” 

“I did some research after dinner,” Shirogane says. “It answered a few questions.” 

“He’s proud of being an athlete, of being successful, of having good trainers and mentors,” Karkat says. “He also knows he’s been lucky and he’s defending an ideal, not the actual institution, at least most of the time.” 

Shirogane nods. “I think I understand. It was an interesting conversation. And an interesting point of view.” 

“I’m sure Dave learned a great deal as well, hopefully enough to get through the formal dinner without causing a riot.” 

“Hopefully,” the ambassador says with another smile. He nods and heads off with a signed book. 

Terezi turns up with the teal courtiers demanding a happy ending as she hands him the book to sign. “Not everyone gets a happy ending, Terezi,” Karkat says. 

“You’re the writer; of course you can give everyone a happy ending!” Terezi says. 

“Only if I’m willing to compromise my standards as a writer of serious literature,” Karkat says with huffy dignity that is 95% fake. “Dave was pitching a fit this evening what did you talk to him about?” Karkat whispers. 

“I am sorry to tell you that you do not actually write serious literature Karkles!” Terezi says, then whispers, “He needed someone to drag his feelings out into the open, a service I was happy to provide.” 

“He does fine expressing his feelings on his own,” Karkat whispers. 

Terezi gives him a skeptical look. “You don’t want to push him. You give him a lot of space and that’s good, but sometimes you need to push.” 

“I can’t ‘push’ him Terezi,” Karkat says. “I don’t have that right. You didn’t have any right to interrogate--” 

“Pile,” Terezi says. 

Karkat blinks, surprised. “What.” 

“I’ve been talking to him,” Terezi says. “Over Trollian and through private messaging on his blog. I gave him my private email and my drop boxes.” She smirks at his dumbfounded expression. “You’ve been giving him privacy and not checking up who he talks to, or how often.” 

“Of course I have,” Karkat says. Terezi has moved over to allow another teal to get their book signed. (The other teal is very huffy about the wait. No fucks are given.) He signs and does more book signing, chatting with various fans who are somewhat more identifiable as fans than the other groups had been. “I’ve only been monitoring for the usual keywords.” 

“It was just casual talking,” Terezi said. “Snarky comments and memes. Yesterday though was an actual pile.” 

“Did you pile, or just confuse him though?” Karkat says. “He was not actually what I would call pacified this evening.” 

“Was he really upset?” Terezi asks, and from the worried tone, Karkat is a little more convinced that this is an actual thing. That Terezi might be pale for Strider. 

“Mostly disturbed that his façade is actually transparent,” Karkat says. “To nosy teal mindwitches.” 

Terezi giggles, sharp and delighted, as if she’d received the highest of compliments. For her, it probably was. “Not angry though? Or whatever pitch is in humans?” 

“Not angry, confused and exasperated, maybe,” Karkat says. 

“Good. I can work with that, maybe,” Terezi says. She leans in to tweak his cheek with long, sharp fingers and absconds with her book. 

“What the hell,” he says. 

“Looks like your buoy frond is getting his pale quadrant filled,” Feferi says teasingly. 

“He doesn’t have a pale quadrant, he’s human,” Karkat says. 

“Whale neither do you, you still got yours filleted,” Feferi points out with a sharp little grin. 

“That’s because Gamzee is a pure serendipitous pale wreck of a troll and I am the loudmouth dumbass he’s stuck with,” Karkat says immediately. “The sepia whirlwind of my quadrants can’t help but lean pale as sand in his general direction.” 

“What’s Dave?” Feferi asks. 

“Surprisingly good company. A challenge, and an annoyance. Ridiculously pitiful when you see past the bullshit,” Karkat says. “Yesterday was…” he shakes his head. He’d wanted to give Dave space after what had come out during the conversation. He hadn’t wanted to push. Had Terezi been right? Should he have pushed? Maybe it was only that someone should have pushed, not necessarily him. 

“What’s Terezi?” This time Feferi’s tone is slightly evil. 

“Weird and way too likely to try and lick my ganderbulbs to see if they taste like cherries,” Karkat says automatically. 

After the book signing, Karkat returns to his quarters to rest, and get ready for the formal dinner. Dave is sitting in the living block, watching some action serial on the entertainment center. “Hey master,” he says. “Have fun talking to your adoring fans?” 

“Yes. No one attempted to lynch me because of the sad ending,” Karkat says, and settles into a chair. “The Ambassador assures me that he wasn’t offended about last night.” 

Dave’s shoulders hunch slightly. “I guess I got to apologize?” 

“That would probably be a good idea,” Karkat says. “Before the dinner would probably be a good idea.” He gives it a beat. “Right now would be the best time.” 

Dave gives Karkat a look, somewhere between amused and something close to nervous. “I’ll get right on that,” he says, and doesn’t move from where he’s seated, for the moment. 

“He was also concerned about your general state of well-being,” Karkat says. 

“Heh. Nice of him, considering the way I mouthed off,” Dave says. He gets up and heads for the computer console. “Written or face to face?” 

“Written. I guess whatever would be formal inferior to superior mode for humans?” 

“Okay. One formal letter of apology coming right up,” Dave says. “You realize I have no actual idea of what that would really look like though. What if I start an interstellar incident?” 

“Like the one you didn’t start yesterday?” Karkat asks drily. “Don’t make me get up and shoosh you, it would be embarrassing for the both of us.” 

“Also cheating,” Dave says. 

“Gamzee would understand, I was swept away by the moment, overwhelmed by unexpected pale compassion,” Karkat says, amused. 

“Uh-huh,” Dave says and starts writing. 

The dinner is free of incident. There is food, conversations ranging from wary and polite, to polite and friendly. Dave is wearing one of his best suits, and somehow manages to talk Karkat into wearing the horn ring and bracelet. Dave’s demeanor is polite and just a little red-flirtatious. (Karkat recalls Dave talking about “dates” he’d been on, and tries not to think about Dave learning to charm, to please his former master in order to survive. Then he wonders if humans have psychic powers after all because Dave gives him a _look,_ as if he’d overheard Karkat’s guilty-pitying thoughts.) _Or you’re an idiot and suck at hiding genuine pity,_ Karkat scolds himself. 

There are speeches. Mostly speeches about peace and joint prosperity and the end of the war. There are some speeches about cultural understanding that may or may not be souring the mouths of the speakers. The Ambassador talks about cultural exchange promoting understanding between peoples. The speeches are trending in a particular direction, which makes Karkat suspicious especially when the Empress started talking. Because “marching orders.” _Oh God._

“There are many who were resentful, and are still resentful when I demanded a tithe of human slaves, when I bartered for and in some cases conscripted slaves from their owners. I did this in the interest of diplomacy, in an effort to permanently end a war that lasted for three or perhaps four human generations. The UPT demanded a full repatriation, but I was only able to provide a partial one--some humans having managed to make lives in the Empire wanted to stay, and hoped for Imperial sponsorship, which was granted them. Others wanted to leave, and they left with Imperial blessing.” 

“The UPT received my gifts, their quadrants and cross quadrants and progeny and their progeny’s progeny returned to them, but a few short sweeps later--short for me, and perhaps for you--I began to hear things that displeased me. Of quadrants rejected, of progeny declared unfit, of human ‘families’ separated, confined, “reeducated.” I was concerned and truthfully, a little offended. The gift I gave was as much to the humans I thought I had sent home, as to the government which received them. Yet at the same time, though they reject those ‘contaminated’ by Trollish ideas and beliefs, the people of the UPT have an abiding interest in the Empire they fought so persistently, so bravely and so long. This is revealed most clearly by their interest in Alternian entertainment media, and the work of my friend the author Karkat Vantas, among others.” 

Feferi pauses and smiles down at him and her teeth are bright and sharp as a knife at the throat. “My friend, who is my right hand, who is the Grand Highblood’s best beloved brother, who shouts down generals and wrote the damn treaty and refuses all titles, I name my Emissary. He will make clear my displeasure over the treatment of my gifts, and maybe, possibly, perhaps, he will receive compensation for the pirated copies of his books that have become so popular.” 

There is no room for argument in public. Feferi knows it, he knows it. He can’t even glare, in the face of that wide, sharp grin. He’ll have plenty to say later though. He rises and bows. “As you will, Empress.” 


	10. Chapter 10

He had known this would be a thing that might happen someday. That he might be called back from his “ordinary life.” He had known that his “ordinary life” had been given out of pity as much as a reward…and in anticipation. (No one really knew how long he had. They could make educated guesses, stabs in the dark, speculate, but they didn’t _know_.) Sooner or later need was going to trump pity. (Need. Don’t get a swelled head there Karkat. Anyone else could do this; Feferi just decided it would be you.) So he’s not really angry. Exasperated a little, maybe, (having it sprung on him like this) but not really angry.

He argues, of course he argues. He asks questions, he demands explanations. He isn’t angry about the marching orders, but he questions them. He questions having them dumped on his head. He questions being the one sent. Feferi responds point for point, explaining the purpose of the mission and his part in it. “It mostly won’t be different from a book tour,” Feferi says. “You’ll just also be talking to politicians and diplomats.” 

“Yes that’s just like a book tour,” Karkat says. “You know I hate book tours, right?” 

“Everyone knows you hate book tours,” Feferi says, combing heavy locks of hair back over her ear fin. “But you were also my strongest proponent for the prisoner exchanges and repatriation.”

“The loudest you mean,” Karkat says.

“That too,” Feferi says. Her smile is sweet and full of teeth. “So now I’m sending you to ask questions and make it clear that I won’t tolerate my gifts being ill-treated.” 

“I have some questions already,” Karkat says. “I did some research. Part of the problem seems to be questions of ‘loyalty.’ Won’t objecting to how the repatriated are treated make their situation worse? Next, is paying attention to something outside the Empire going to weaken your position? As in, someone saying you’re more concerned with something happening outside the Empire than with actual problems occurring within the Empire. Next, am I doing something besides shouting at people? What are we going to do if I can’t magically convince people to stop being sacks of shit to other people?”

“It would be worse not to object,” Feferi says. “The UPT wanted a sign that I wasn’t like my predecessor. They said they wanted their people returned, so I returned the ones who wanted to return. I promised those people better lives, and I won’t betray them.”

“The Ambassador doesn’t think the treatment of the repatriated is a serious problem,” Karkat says. “A hardship, but one that can be overcome.” 

“He also thinks this tour is a good idea,” Feferi says. “Shiro’s inclined to discount the seriousness of the incidents that have been reported. He doesn’t really see or understand--” She broke off, frustrated for a moment. “He sees cultural assimilation and it’s brainwashing. Or fear-based-survival-memories! Which they may be, but separating someone from their clade or their wigglers won’t fix the problem!”

“Shiro,” Karkat says, and that’s all he says. 

Feferi flushes. “I do consider him a hate-friend. We work well together. We argue.” 

“He’s extremely attractive,” Karkat says in an agreeable tone. “Pitch-dark eyes above a straight and balanced scar--”

“Dear blessed Mother-Of-All shut up!” Feferi says, flushing to her fins. “It isn’t like that at all!”

“All right,” Karkat says. “But what about my other questions?” 

“I don’t think there will be an issue with someone attacking me based on my concern for the repatriated. I’ve been working steadily on campaigning for a number of reforms that I’m more likely to be attacked for!” She smiles. “I want you to speak to UPT leaders, and also to leaders among the repatriated. Find out where the problems are, mediate. I’d suggest asking about potential sponsorships, but humans don’t seem to do that the way we do. I’m giving you a…wide array of powers, up to and including de-patriating any human who wants to go back to the Empire. ” 

“I’m not sure that’s an offer they’d take,” Karkat says. 

“Career training and advancement for freed non-trolls is one of my current campaigns,” Feferi says. “Along with fair wages, housing and ration allotments for both trolls and non-trolls.”

Karkat nods. “Okay so, shouting at people, hawking my books, talking about Alternian Literature, and objecting to the treatment of the repatriated. This is going to be followed by explaining syncretism and assimilation to idiots. Then I’ll hopefully be mediating between hostile groups of people. I’ll also be questioning UPT definitions of brainwashing and de-programming methods. I’ll also throw in the importance of jobs and education. Anything else?”

“No, that about describes it.” Feferi says. 

So, there’s getting ready; clothes, itinerary, handlers, liaisons, newsfeeds, social studies, endless note taking. He reviews his old language notes. He can speak and read English but not very well, speak some Spanish, almost no Chinese and swear in Arabic. There’s also figuring out what to do about Dave. (That is, asking Dave what he wants to do.)

“I could be your translator,” Dave offers after hearing Karkat practicing. 

_“Your knowledge of UPT languagez end at five zweepz,”_ Karkat says in English. _“I will have tranzlator, but iz good to zpeak a little.”_

“Yeah but I’d like to be more than buff arm candy,” Dave says. 

“Do you really want to go?” Karkat asks. 

“Where else am I gonna go?” Dave asks. 

“I thought you’d stay here, maybe,” Karkat says. “Or go back to the apartment, if you wanted.” 

“In the lap of imperial luxury or back at the apartment, tough choice there,” Dave says. “Do you not want me to go with? It’d maybe weaken your platform or whatever.” 

“Which brings us right back to my question; do you want to go?” Karkat asks.

“I don’t want to be left here,” Dave says. “Getting watched like someone’s pet in a kennel while you’re off doing things.” 

“You’d be a guest, if you stayed here,” Karkat says. “In the lap of imperial luxury, right?” 

“Still with the being watched in a kennel,” Dave says. “Do you not want me to go?”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Karkat says. “What I want isn’t important.”

“Do you not want me to go?” Dave repeats. “Just. Would you like me being with you.” 

“Yes, that is pretty much a given,” Karkat says, a little exasperated now. “That’s only been completely a thing for a long time now. I thought maybe this could be you having a small break from _me._ ” 

“Is that a thing though,” Dave says. “Me getting a break. And uh, what would I do?” 

“Well, whatever you wanted, though you’d need to have someone acting as your guardian,” Karkat says. “Which yes, is a lot like you’re earlier accusation of being a pet in a kennel, but it really wouldn’t be like that. Uh, possibly Terezi, she’s pretty entertaining if also creepy and annoying. Maybe Kanaya, she’ll probably want to design you a new wardrobe. Or use you as a living dress form. Maybe, maybe Nepeta, though then you’d have to put up with Equius.” 

“If I want a break, I’ll tell you,” Dave says. “I want to go with you. And just. Go. To the UPT. See what it’s like.” 

Karkat nods. “I’d be happy to have you come with me,” he says. 

* * *

It’s the _Iron Castigation of Heretics_ that picks them up for the first stage of their trip to the UPT. It’s a little unusual for a cathedral ship to be involved with a diplomatic mission, but Karkat is happy to see his moirail. Any attempt of formal distance due to the nature of the mission goes right out the looking pane and Karkat just. Does not. Care. He’s too busy being wrapped up in an embrace that lifts him off his feet and everything is diamonds. “My main motherfucker I am blessed by the miracle of your presence,” Gamzee says and sets him back down. 

“Feferi’s orders are miracles now?” Karkat asks when he gets his breath back. When he can get the huge sappy grin off his face. 

“Nah, just your own sweet self,” Gamzee says with a grin. He quotes, “‘The motherfucker who can bring peace to your holy rage is a miracle of pity, so hold tight to that serendipitous fucker as they to you, calming their rage in turn.’” 

“You are such a fucking romantic,” Karkat says, feeling his face heat (mostly because of the obligatory “whoop whoop” from the various members of crew and Gamzee’s entourage). God. 

“Yeah, but you like romance,” Gamzee says. He looks to Dave, who had up to now been pretending he was invisible. “Strider.” 

Dave bows. “Master Makara.”

“You getting your learn on concerning romance from my moirail?” 

Dave doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, a conflicted look on his face. A ‘what the hell does he want to hear?’ look on his face. “Master has been having me read a lot of romances, Master Makara,” he says finally. 

Gamzee snorts. “I imagine so,” he says slowly. “Never a night goes by where he is not tossing books at some poor motherfucker’s head.” He looks back to Karkat. “Let’s go get you and Strider settled in.” 

The block where Karkat stays when he’s on the Castigation has a new addition. Off to one side is a raised platform of wood and metal with carved posts at each corner and a carved, rounded board on the end of the platform that’s against the bulkhead, and a smaller one at the foot. It’s something like a concupiscent couch with the addition of pillows in decorative sacks, comfort panes of various thicknesses and a ruffled fabric pane concealing the area underneath the platform. The comfort panes are black with bright red flowers, and the decorative pillow sacks are red. “Got it imported special,” Gamzee says. 

“Thank you, Master Makara,” Dave says. 

“Just something to get your sleep on in,” Gamzee says. “Suggested by my trickstersis on the other side of the border.” 

“Captain Nona Egbert,” Karkat says to Dave. “They met just before the official beginning of the peace process.” 

“Causing all kinds of incidents of diplomacy, we two,” Gamzee says. “And building all kinds of bridges out between the stars. She’ll be taking you on the second leg.”

After some more talk, Gamzee goes on to do Grand Highblood things while Karkat and Dave unpack. While he’s setting clothes in the dresser on his side of the room he opens a drawers, and just stops, and pulls out three gift wrapped boxes. Two small and slim, one a bit larger. “Uh Master?” he asks.

Karkat comes over to look at the boxes. “Look like he left you something,” he says.

“Me?” Dave asks. “Seems more like he’d get something for you?” 

Karkat shrugs. “It’s on your side of the block. The bigger one doesn’t have holes, so probably not a nookworm.” 

Dave almost drops the boxes, he fumbles with them, looking a combination of horrified and panicked. “I…uh. Nookworm? That would be more a you present, right?” 

“I am not sure how much Gamzee knows about human anatomy and biology,” Karkat says. “Squeamish?” 

“No!” This is very much a lie, from the look on Dave’s face. 

“Open the presents and let’s see,” Karkat suggests.

With extreme reluctance, Dave sits down on his bed and unwraps the presents. The first two boxes are jewelry. A choker of flat gold links with a large star ruby cabochon at the center, and a gold three strand hip chain joined at intervals by large disks. The third box…

The third box is a dancing costume, rolled up tight enough to fit in the box. Black sleeveless tunic with red embroidery, loose red pants that gather at the ankle. Leather bottomed black and red dancing shoes. Dave frowns as he unrolls and shakes out the tunic and pants. “So, I’m guessing he’s probably been watching my videos.” 

“I’m sorry,” Karkat says immediately. “I’ll talk to him.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Dave says. “Just uh. Is he making a move, or trying to get us together in some weird setting the stage sense?”

“Probably the latter,” Karkat says. “You are, like most of the empire ‘too motherfucking scared of him’.” 

“It must be hard for the Grand Highblood to find a rival,” Dave says. “If not being scared is the requirement.” A beat, and a worried look. “Uh. Master? Are you saying he’d hate me like that if…?”

“He decided you were hateable,” Karkat says. “He thought I might hate you. He’ll give you grief, but he won’t actually make a move.” Or he’ll have to have a long and extensive pile with Gamzee about it. 

“Gonna protect me from your highblood moirail, huh?” Dave asks with a slight smirk. 

“If I have to,” Karkat says. “Not that I think I will.” 

He does bring it up though, when they finally get to pile. He asks about the gifts while snuggled up against Gamzee’s side on a pile of books, pillows, clubs and random musical instruments. Gamzee is thoughtful and silent before saying, “‘Pay out what is owed to your kin according to your conscience.’” 

“A heartfelt apology would probably be better,” Karkat says. “Instead of jewelry and a dance costume.” 

“Depends on the deed, and who all’s being paid, my brother,” Gamzee says. “I’ve a lesson I mean to teach, and if Strider’s willing, he can be my assistant.” 

“A lesson you mean to teach,” Karkat says. He doesn’t quite understand. “What lesson?” 

“Think I’ll call it The Most Righteous Lesson of My Miracle-Blooded Mutant Brother is A Goddamn Gift,” Gamzee muses, rubbing soft and careful at the base of Karkat’s horns. “Or The Lesson that the Grand Highblood is Not Your Goddamn Executioner.” 

“Oooh,” Karkat says around the purr that kicks up. “Ddammit Ggamzeee.” He tries to pull away, but Gamzee’s other arm has snuck around and there’s no moving now. “The guy. That guy. The asshole.”

“Can I ask Strider if he wants in, love?” Gamzee asks. 

“Guh,” Karkat says intelligently. “At least you’re not asking me to-to let you use him,” he says, a little unkindly. 

“Bro, I wouldn’t do a thing like that,” Gamzee says, sounding a little hurt. “I’m asking on account he ain’t gonna want to talk to me much. Should I bring him in?”

“If he wants,” Karkat says. “You can talk to him about it. But no. No fucking curses. I’ll tell Terezi.”

“Why would Terezi be wanting to get her speech on, about Strider?” Gamzee asks.

“Hah,” Karkat says. “Wait’ll you hear this. It’s fucking adorable…” 

* * *

So the joke goes like this: Gamzee has Dave around, telling stories about when he was a gladiator. He has him talking about his “retirement.” Azurad Nimrod, the indigo who was so incensed that Dave killed an indigo then went and killed another indigo is present as a brother in good humor. He is a celebrant but not a dedicated member of the Church of the Two Messiahs. He sits at the table and tries not to glare at the sight of Gamzee showing favor, and even pouring drinks for both Dave and Karkat. (It would be Karkat’s job to pour drinks and otherwise attend his moirail, but Gamzee always flips it around, citing scripture. And there is, surprisingly scripture somewhere in the bloody rainbow-spattered tomes of Gamzee’s religion stating that attendance of one’s morail went both ways, whether low or high.)

This goes on for a few nights. Dave seems to enjoy making fun of Karkat’s lack of sartorial elegance and “complete failure to brush his hair ever.” A few wiseacres warn Gamzee that the human slave is waxing pale for Karkat. Dave says, “Nah, it’s embarrassing as hell, being seen with someone who isn’t even trying to look good.” The way he says it, it could mean anything.

Gamzee says in a conspiratorial stage whisper, “our brother Karkat says he disapproves of fancy things, but really he’s just shy about showing off like he should; look at him being all flustered!” There is nothing to say to this commentary that makes the wide grins (or the hoots of laughter) fade. 

Gamzee’s closest advisors, friends and mentors are apparently approving of Dave, and that irritates Azurad Nimrod to no end. Karkat is not sure if that’s part of the joke or not. They had been less approving of him. (Living with Gamzee on the Iron Castigation had been a very long battle, from beginning to end.) 

Dave dances at Gamzee’s request. The dances usually take place after dinner, in one of the ships recreation areas. There are sharp, fast-paced displays with high kicks and leaps, and slower, more controlled dances with a sword that is absolutely not a stage prop. The audience is usually a mixed group of “siblings in good humor,” church elders, members of Gamzee’s entourage, and newly-ascended kids. 

And Nimrod. 

Nimrod gets invited to every exhibition. 

Nimrod plainly does not like this. Nimrod also does not like the praise Gamzee heaps on Dave. He does not like the way, after a dance performance, Dave spars with the kids. Or the way a grizzled sword instructor corrects and critiques Dave’s swordkind technique. It is all very amicable, and steam practically comes out of Nimrod’s ears. 

No one says a word about it. There isn’t so much as a glance in Nimrod’s direction. Not as far as Karkat can tell. (He knows that those present are ready, but they don’t look ready, and he doesn’t know them like he knows Gamzee, even if Karkat has gotten along with a few of them in the past. So he’s worried.) Karkat can’t not pay attention though, because this “joke” is actually dangerous.

Dave is...Karkat isn’t sure of how to describe it. He’s tense, focused and strangely eager, as if he’s waiting for the moment to let loose. (Karkat realizes that this is exactly the moment he’s waiting for and is even more worried, and also unnerved.) Karkat doesn’t want Dave to get hurt, and is beginning to regret allowing Gamzee to “bring Dave in.” (Well, beginning to regret more.) 

The punchline goes like this: Azurad Nimrod loses it at some point, equips clubkind and charges at Dave while he’s sparring with a baby clown. Dave immediately shoves the kid out of the sparring area and goes for Nimrod. Nimrod swings, Dave darts out of the way, comes back with a slash up under Nimrod’s guard. The fight is short and ugly, and Karkat almost equips sickle kind and goes after Nimrod when a club connects with Dave’s ribs, but Gamzee catches him by the arm, and sits him back down. 

The fight ends with Nimrod on his knees, held there by the sword instructor and one of the church elders. Dave standing, on arm wrapped around his torso as he pants, glaring at Nimrod. “What the hell? What the hell did you even think you were doing?” he asks.

“You’ve no right to be standing proud over your betters, freak,” Nimrod snarls. 

Dave tells him to fuck himself, in English. Gamzee chuckles, which brings everyone’s attention to him; he lets Karkat go, and Karkat immediately goes to support Dave. “If our blood’s good, hadn’t we better prove it?” Gamzee asks. “Got all this bowing shit going on, you never see the look in a motherfucker’s eyes. Like right now.” Gamzee walks over to where Nimrod is, and tilts his chin. “Motherfucker, you think you can direct me on who to cull and who to spare?”

“It isn’t right, letting dirtbloods and slaves, fucking mutants come up out of their places. The old Grand Highblood wouldn’t have stood for this bullshit,” Nimrod shouts. “How can you fuckers--” Gamzee cuts him off with a hand around his throat, squeezing. 

“The Old Man would have gutted you for presuming to direct him, no matter how much you wiped your face on the floor, motherfucker,” Gamzee said, almost kindly. The air was almost vibrating with chucklevoodoos though, strong enough to make even other high bloods edgy. Strong enough to make the asshole he was directing them at go wall-eyed with terror.

Karkat could feel the muscles in Dave’s arm bunch and tense under his hand. “It’s okay,” Karkat murmured to Dave. “Just breathe.”

“Kinda hard, rib,” Dave says. 

“I know, we’ll get you to a mediculler soon,” Karkat murmurs. 

“--See, if we’re good. If we’re righteous and strong, and the dirtbloods are meant to serve, hadn’t we best be strong in all ways? Be worthy of service, and how is some fucker, how are two stupid fuckers, two criminals who barely earned their place in the ring worthy of shit? Should a fucker back down when faced with a battle just because the other fucker is supposed to be his better?” Gamzee asks. “I don’t think so. I don’t _motherfucking think so._ I know most of my sibs don’t feel like I do, so I went along with brother Nimrod telling me about how I should be angry and insulted and how I should punish some slave for being better than some other fucker. I bought that slave, and sent him to my good and kindly bro, who is the best out of any motherfuckers I know, though I don’t think he appreciated the joke.” He slides a sly glance toward Karkat, who demonstrates how unfunny the joke was with a gesture. (There’s some laughter, even under the oppressive force of the chucklevoodoos.) “But the joke, sibs younger and elder, is on this fucker,” Gamzee says and shakes Nimrod. “He didn’t get what he wanted, and he ain’t never gonna get what he wanted where Dave motherfucking Strider is concerned.” Gamzee drops Nimrod. “I’ll deal with you later, motherfucker, take him to a penitent’s seat, bro,” he says to two members of his entourage. “Get the medicullers and a stretcher, this fucker needs to lie down. You okay bro?” Gamzee asks Dave. 

“I’m good,” Dave grits out. “Master Makara.” 

Karkat really, really wants to yell at Gamzee about this, but Gamzee is too busy being pleased. He follows Karkat, the medicullers and Dave to the infirmary. Dave, despite the injuries is also very pleased and even jokes, tentatively, with Gamzee. (A second reason Karkat can’t really yell at Gamzee.) “I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I agreed to let this happen,” Karkat says fuming. “Why.” (He is not yelling.) 

“Deep down in the heart of you, you knew it would be funny as fuck,” Gamzee says solemnly. 

“No, no I didn’t,” Karkat says, his voice rising.

“Yo, it was my choice, master,” Dave says. “I’m not even hurt that bad.”

“He’s all embarrassed because Sister Nona will think he beats his slaves,” Gamzee explains to Dave. “But I’ll be telling her you went and beat up some highblood fucker and she’ll be appeased right down to her toes.”

“Fuck you in the ear with an ice chipping tool,” Karkat says. “I’m justifiably angry Dave, not my concubine, not my slave, _Dave_ got hurt because you wanted a goddamn morality play, and I listened to you.”

Dave stares. Gamzee smirks, and for some reason, Karkat feels his face heat. 

“Now see little bro?” Gamzee ask Dave. “You see how sweet this mother fucker is on you?” 

“I had an idea, Master Makara,” Dave says, his voice sounding a little odd. A little flustered, and obviously trying not to be. 

Karkat, just as flustered and trying not to be, buries his face in his hands. “God. Why.”

“Because you’re an adorable motherfucker?” Gamzee asks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see some extremely silly, extremely inappropriate speculation on What If the Gift HAD Been a Nookworm [here.](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/post/156269076191/in-which-inappropriate-humor-is-inappropriate)


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of the trip, in the aftermath of Gamzee’s “joke” is pretty quiet. Dave had cracked a rib, had some pretty impressive bruises from the fight, but was relentlessly cheerful about it. He got visits from the sword instructor, an elderly indigo with curved and pronged horns named Seggyn Narvfi, and a few of the youngsters he’d sparred with. Sometimes he went off with them somewhere. Karkat’s a little worried about it at first, but Dave seems to enjoy the attention, and the indigoes visits are friendly. 

Karkat’s a little surprised to find himself signing autographs, and answering questions about his books. Intellectually he knew he had fans across the hemospectrum, and had been approached in the past by high bloods but it was a little strange to be signing for clowns. When he’d been living with Gamzee, the atmosphere had been unfriendly. It hadn’t stopped him from arguing or speaking his mind, but it had been very uncomfortable. So it felt strange to have clowns come up to him and start up conversations about his books, or be asked to sign a book. 

He asks about it, tentatively during a caretaking session, Karkat sitting on the edge of the bathtub, combing out Gamzee’s hair. Gamzee laughs. “You think you didn’t make any impression at all while you were here, bro?” he asks. “Like you didn’t make any impression with me?” 

“I thought it was more of an _indentation_ ,” Karkat says. “Into the nearest bulkhead.” His tone is sour, and a little ironic. 

“It was the other guy who scratched the mural, not your thumpy little horns,” Gamzee points out in a placid tone. 

“Still not seeing the ‘impression’ I made,” Karkat says.

“They saw how strong you were, how you don’t back down. I won’t say they’ve got the pure understanding of fish sis’ ways and intentions, but they got your measure,” Gamzee points out. 

“Yeah but I did back down, didn’t I?” Karkat asks. “I left, remember?” 

Gamzee snorts. “Once a brother makes a point, he shouldn’t have to go on making the same damn point. You were here when I needed you--and I did bro, the Old Man’s a hardass and the strictest motherfucker--but you needed your own thing too, and there wasn’t any way you’d get your own thing being so close under my shadow.”

“So that translates to me having made an impression?” Karkat asks. He smiles a little. 

“Yeah,” Gamzee says. “Won’t say my brothers and sisters have all woken to the egalitarian philosophies but they’re getting their understand on.”

“Good,” Karkat says, and starts working on another section of Gamzee’s curls. “Dave’s made some friends, or found some admirers, whichever. And your friends seem to be a little friendlier.” 

“You have a way with words, little bro,” Gamzee says. “When you’ve a mind to. It isn’t at all surprising they’d be fonder of a storyteller who knew what he was about. So does Strider, though he’s mostly spoken-word, not writing.”

“He’s not trying competitive poetry is he?” Karkat asks, a little worried. He didn’t want Dave to get into any challenges, or have some poet take offense. 

“Na, just recounting,” Gamzee says. “Maybe a few informal exchanges.”

“Okay, that’s good I guess,” Karkat says, and maybe smiles a little. He wonders if the “recounting” was anything like some of the muttering he’d overheard. Sometimes conversational, sometimes fuming, in a combination of English and Alternian. (Oddly enough the idiosyncrasy wasn’t something Terhun’s promoters had ever mentioned, and it wasn’t in his profile. Had he been better able to hide it then, or was it a sign of trust?) _Heh. More likely he was just that angry he didn’t care about hiding it, for whatever reason he might have been hiding it,_ he thinks. 

“How’s he sleeping?” Gamzee asks.

Karkat frowns, both because of the shift in conversation, and because the answer was: “Not very good.” 

“Any better, any worse?” 

“Better maybe,” Karkat says. “Maybe a little worse just after the dinner with the ambassador.” 

“Good, wouldn’t want to do him any permanent ill,” Gamzee says. “Had nightmares and speculations of the worst sort first few nights he was here the first time.” 

“I wonder why,” Karkat says a little snidely. “Surrounded by subjugglators and bought by the Grand Highblood himself.”

Gamzee waves a hand, indicating _point made._ “That fear’s a normal thing,” he says. “Even fear of where you don’t want to be, doing a thing you ain’t been barely trained to do. Fear full of burning and dark places and grabbing hands and you backed in a corner with a shiv is another kind of fear altogether.” 

“Dreaming about the pirates,” Karkat says, a simmering anger building in his chest. 

“Deeper than that, bro,” Gamzee says. “He aint hardly had a moment in his life where he wasn’t defending himself from something. Think he had one of them _challenging_ custodians, that don’t ever let up, or get their wander on if it suits them.” From the tone in Gamzee’s voice, Karkat can tell he’s thinking of his own lusus, maybe feeling a little sympathy for Dave.

“You’re getting pretty perceptive,” Karkat says. 

“Been doing a lot of meditating and exploring the chucklevoodoos, chasing fear and rage down to its very roots my brother, seeing all that shapes a mind,” Gamzee says. “Strider’s not the first human I’ve got the sense of, but maybe the first one who was just about screaming in my head for all his face was stone. Knew I made the right choice the moment I laid eyes on him.”

Karkat taps one of Gamzee’s horns with the comb. “For me or you?” he asks. Gamzee protests, and rubs at his horn. “You’ve admitted to pitch feelings.” 

“For you, bro,” Gamzee says, turning fast and tugging Karkat into water before he can even think to get away. Karkat yelps and splashes, Gamzee gathers him up like he was the tiniest baby barkbeast, laughing. “Haven’t I said so about a thousand times?”

“Purest serendipity, right,” Karkat says, a little sour. 

“I think so,” Gamzee says. “You like him, and he likes you, you’ve both got the rage down deep, for all he won’t show it, and it’s always been all over your face and in your voice.”

“He likes me?” And he can’t help the hopefulness in his voice.

“He’s getting a liking, and maybe speculating in an entirely different manner,” Gamzee says smugly. 

Karkat’s face heats. “How are you getting things that aren’t fear,” he grumbles. 

“Anything the little brain, the bug brain gets a feel of, I can get,” Gamzee says. “Nona sis says it’s flight/fight impulses I get at the bottom, and I don’t see how she’s wrong. There’s other things in a thinking brain that turns fight and flight into other feels though, and I can get those too, if I’ve a mind to. That little brother wants a thing he ain’t never really had, and that feel goes down dark and deep into the fear places.”

“And on top of that you think he’s mine anyway because of his eyes,” Karkat says and shivers a little from the water, which is just barely warm for him. It’s not even really a protest. Just bringing up the core of why Gamzee’s so sure, why he feels so strongly about it.

“Yeah, that was a sign, clear as anything,” Gamzee says. “Saw there was something you could do for him.”

“But pitch?” Karkat asks. “Because you know I’ve never really went pitch for anyone, not even Sollux.”

“Made the most sense,” Gamzee says. “And well, you always talked up pitch, so I thought maybe you could be pitch for someone who don’t really have pitch feels either.”

“That was me talking out of my ass because I was a defensive little shithead you idiot,” Karkat says fondly. 

“I wasn’t thinking of that,” Gamzee says, ruffling Karkat’s hair. “You’re a fiery little motherfucker, hiding all those conciliatory urges under pitch, but I got the knowledge of how you are pretty quick.” 

“Are you trying to slant rhyme?” Karkat asks suspiciously. “Are you going to start versifying?” 

“You can help me practice my next sermon,” Gamzee offers, like that was somehow a special treat. 

“Oh god,” Karkat says, and sighs. “Okay fine. Let’s get out of this ridiculous trap and make righteous rhythms.”

* * *

Commander Nona Egbert is a dark-skinned human with startlingly pale blue eyes and dark hair that is graying at the temples and sides. She’s curvy with broad shoulders and strong looking, short fingered hands. She’s accompanied by a young human man with a slightly lighter skin tone and eyes a darker blue, his dark hair in short twists, and a young human woman with startlingly pink-purple eyes and arrow-straight white-blonde hair. Both are about Dave’s age, neither are in uniform. 

“Ambassassin Vantas, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” the commander says in clear if accented Alternian once Karkat and Dave transfer from _The Iron Castigation of Heretics_ to _Kingfisher_ , a mid-sized Terran battleship. “The Grand Highblood has told me a great deal about you.” Instead of holding out one hand to shake, she holds out both hands.

“My moirail has told me a lot about you, Commander,” Karkat says, clasping her hands. “I’m glad to finally meet his ‘trickster-sis,’ in person.” 

“His highness is someone I am happy to be in ‘cahoots’ with,” she says with a chuckle. “Allow me to introduce my grandson John Egbert; he’ll be your translator, and also Dr. Lalonde, a xeno-anthropology and sociology expert to assist you with any cultural miscommunications.” 

Karkat nods, and indicates Dave. “This is Dave Strider, my concubine,” he says. (Because Dave said: “So, no euphemisms, okay? Not companion, or personal assistant or escort or chaperon or anything like that. Concubine.” And he agreed, and has no idea of why Dave insisted. He has even less of an idea of why he agreed given the slight but very visible frowns on both Egbert and Lalonde’s faces. Or maybe they’re frowning because of the visible, yellowing bruises, or the stiff way Dave is still moving after having cracked his ribs. _Goddamit Gamzee._ ) 

“A retired gladiator, or not so retired?” Commander Egbert asks. (Friendly, calm, and if Karkat isn’t mistaken, giving a very clear reason for the bruising. It doesn’t make Egbert the younger relax, but Lalonde looks curious and intent as only a scholar can.) 

“Retired, but I recently had a little exhibition of my swordkind skills,” Dave says. _“You should see the other guy,”_ he says in English.

“Makara may have sent a video of the exhibition,” Commander Egbert says with a smile. “We can talk about the diplomatic tour over dinner, if that would be all right with you?” 

Karkat nods. “Of course.” 

The commander has a crew member escort Karkat and Dave to a suite with a meeting block, two bedrooms and an ablution block. There is no recuperacoon but that’s what sopor patches are for. Karkat unpacks a bit, and listens to the sound of Dave doing the same in his own room. He thinks he’ll be able to hear if Dave has nightmares and wake him up if necessary. (It had gotten to be a thing on _The Iron Castigation_ : waking Dave up and watching movies on the console, or just sitting with him until Dave could go back to sleep.) 

He takes a shower after that and changes into clothes suitable for dinner with a ship’s captain (and potentially his assigned handlers/diplomatic assistants). He finds Dave sitting at the computer console in the suite, exploring the ship’s intranet, or trying to from the tone of his mutter. “...Why is English so stupid and how the hell did I forget how stupid it is, nothing is spelled how it sounds and I don’t really remember how it sounds…oh hi, Master,” Dave says as he notices Karkat. 

“Find anything interesting?” Karkat asks, peering over Dave’s shoulder. 

“News articles, some conversations in the social interaction and entertainment forums on the intranet, some movies and serial programming,” Dave says. “Also I kind of tried to look up Egbert and Lalonde.” He maximizes a browser window filled with tabs. “Their public profiles and some article titles and one book title from Lalonde. This is apparently Egbert Junior’s first big diplomatic assignment. He’s mostly worked on translating official communications, with some volunteer work with the repatriated communities previously.”

“That’s definitely interesting,” Karkat says. They change places, Dave standing, and Karkat sitting at the console and looking through the tabs. “They probably picked him because direct descent is enough like being in-clade to count. Maybe also because of the volunteer work, personal experience to go with the academic represented by Lalonde.” For about twenty minutes of research, it was extremely comprehensive, and Karkat tells Dave so. 

“I am definitely more than an athletic figure with well-defined muscles and simmering, challenging stare, Master,” Dave says with a teasing grin. 

It takes Karkat a second to catch it. “No, you’re also a smart ass,” Karkat says, giving Dave an unimpressed look for the description he’d paraphrased. The description belonged to one of the leads from his second novel, _A Comedy of Errors in Which a Highblood Moirail Manages Her Moirail’s Quadrants by Acquiring a Pitch Concubine for Him. The Concubine, a Former Soldier With a Tragic Past Turns Out to be More Pitiable than Hateable and the Moirail Flips Into Dangerously Pale Feelings for Him, Endangering His Pale Relationship With the Highblood._ It was from the initial impression formed by Seemus Harper of his new pitch concubine, before he realizes how pitiful Tyrann Anisaz actually is. “I think your reading in English is not as bad as you think,” Karkat says. 

“How’s yours?” Dave asks. 

“Better than my spoken, which isn’t saying much,” Karkat says. “I should be able to figure it out, though the articles look pretty dry and academic.” 

“I also pulled up a dictionary site,” Dave says. 

“Thanks for that, and for the research,” Karkat says. “Go take a shower and get ready for dinner.” Dave heads off for the ablution block.

The dinner goes fairly well. The meal involves sliced, roasted meat over roasted vegetables served with a brown sauce. There was also a cold pasta dish with shrimp, a long stalky vegetable that had been wrapped in fatty slivers of meat and then grilled, and something involving grain, fermented milk fat and fungus. Dessert was chocolate mousse with whipped milk fat that leaves Karkat feeling slightly buzzed, because of the combination of chocolate and sugar. 

Dinner conversation ranges across a number of topics. Books are discussed, the backgrounds of his handlers, personal stories. Dave shares a few of his own, and in general seems a lot calmer and less on edge than he had been when he’d met the UPT Ambassador. The handlers ask Dave a few questions, a few of them slightly too personal, but Dave seems more amused than offended by them. (Karkat is relieved while also being irritated. Egbert the younger did not seem to be very good at being diplomatic.)

Karkat asks the younger Egbert about his experience working with the repatriated, and Dr. Lalonde discusses the difficulties the repatriated are having with reintegrating with human society. “It would be more accurate to state that they aren’t being allowed to integrate on their own terms,” Dr. Lalonde says in response to a question from Karkat. “Which has led to a number of misunderstandings which in turn led to the repatriated falling back on what could be best described as cultural defense mechanisms.”

_“No, their reaction to what’s happening is completely human behavior,”_ John says in English. _“No vaguely speciest theories necessary.”_

_“There is nothing vaguely speciest about Toby Cameron’s work. His studies about the subversive elements of lowblood interaction and communication are key to my research,”_ Lalonde replies.

_“It was crappy military PsyOp bullsh_ \--uh sorry _Grandma,_ no offense,” John says. “Sorry Ambassador.” 

“Offense taken young man,” Commander Egbert says with mock sternness. 

“No, it was pretty interesting, from what I understood, which wasn’t a lot,” Karkat says. 

“Kinda hella salacious though, flirting with each other right in front of the Ambassador,” Dave says. “Totally shameless.” 

* * *

A little less than two weeks later at the nearest UPT station, the rest of what will be Karkat’s team of handlers and bodyguards arrives, as well as Eridan Ampora, Chief Ambassador of the Alternian Embassy to the United Planets of Terra. Eridan’s gotten taller, much the way Feferi has, but he’s still skinny-wiry, and he still wants to gossip at the nearest opportunity. (He says it’s a debriefing, but it is definitely gossiping. The “debriefing” mostly takes place in Eridan’s suite not a strategy or debriefing block.) Eridan is kept mostly on track by his personal assistant, who is also his moirail. The moirail is a middle-aged olive named Gernuk with impressive scars and an affable demeanor. There’s a picture in the meeting block of Gernuk’s hornbeast lusus lying quite companionably with Eridan’s flying seahorse lusus. 

They go over the itinerary; the meetings, press conferences and interviews planned, as well as the diplomatic receptions Karkat will have to attend. Eridan also tries to get information about Dave out of Karkat, mostly in the name of public relations, though he’s obviously also curious about Dave--and whatever relationship he has with Karkat--as well. “I don’t know how we’re going to talk about you being egalitarian and an Emancipationist, Kar. Not with Strider at your shoulder,” he says. “What was Gamzee thinking?”

“I think he was thinking ‘ha ha ha, where else am I gonna send a slave I don’t want to punish?’” Karkat says dryly. “Then the emissary to the UPT thing came up. I’ll figure something out. And before you suggest it,” Karkat says, seeing a thoughtful look cross Eridan’s face. “Dave has no intention of letting me hide his position in my household under a euphemism.” 

“I was just thinking about Emancipationists, Kar,” Eridan says. “It’d be harder to swing him as a rescue though, with him being a concubine and all.” There’s a pause, and Eridan’s expression turns wicked. “He won’t _let_ you use a euphemism?” Eridan asks. “He pitch after all?” 

“I think it’s mostly that people would assume anyway, and he wants to elaborately make it clear he doesn’t care what they think,” Karkat says. “At least that’s the main theory. Because he is actually six sweeps old and secretly more melodramatic than _you_ at that age.”

“I look forward to hearing any stories you might have, Emissary,” Gernuk says. “For my anecdotal collection device.” 

“Ger, no.” Eridan says, looking a little dismayed. “Kar, don’t tell him anythin’ I’m beggin you.” 

“Who am I to deny such a request? Your moiraillegiance can only grow stronger once he knows every stupid thing you’ve ever done,” Karkat says. 

“He pretty much already does,” Eridan says. “Not like I’ve ever held anything back.” 

“Multiple points of view create a more layered and nuanced collection,” Gernuk says. He reaches over and ruffles Eridan’s hair, Eridan elbows Gernuk in the ribs, fins flared and flushing. 

“Do you think I could see it some time?” Karkat asks, mostly because Eridan’s expression is hilarious. As is Gernuk’s immediate “You could see it now if you like.”

The rest of the evening is spent looking at Gernuk’s anecdote collection, watching videos and slide shows. (Some mildly pale recordings of date experiences, anecdotes about Eridan, anecdotes about Gernuk, slideshows of places Eridan visited on Earth, Celadon and Mars.) He eventually heads back to his suite, and walks right into an argument.

“I’m just offering to help!” John is protesting. 

“By offering to buy me? Fuck that,” Dave spits angrily. “What the hell John?” 

“At least let me make an offer?” 

“No. He’d say no, and if he actually said yes, my first act as your property would be to kick your asshole between your teeth!”

“You'd be free. You’d be free in the UPT, the documents wouldn’t mean anything,” John says with dismayed confusion. 

“They’d mean something to the Grand Highblood,” Dave says. “He wants me where I am, and if I’m where I’m not supposed to be you think he won’t get pissed?” 

“If you’re afraid of the Grand--”

“Anyone with goddamn sense is afraid of the fucking Grand Highblood! And what if I’m obeying because I was a goddamn cultist, and he’s like the Clown Pope, what about that? Does that figure into your Good Samaritan schtick?” 

“You’re a cultist?” John asks incredulously. 

“No, but if I were I’d probably already have--aw fuck, Master,” Dave says finally noticing Karkat. 

“What?” John says, not understanding. At a gesture from Dave, he sees Karkat too. “Shit.” 

“Okay so, suborning a slave is actually illegal in Alternian space so it’s a good thing we’re not,” Karkat says. “Still, I think your grandmother won’t be happy about this _definite diplomatic incident._ Which she’ll find out about later, but for now, get the fuck out of my quarters.”

“What are you going to do to Dave?” John demands. “Assault is illegal in Terran Space by the way.” 

“Holy _shit_ John,” Dave says. “Are you like being _paid_ to fuck this diplomatic thing up?” 

“Well, that’s not a thought I had until now,” Karkat says musingly, “ _Are_ you trying to fuck things up?” He was expecting _something_ but not quite this soon, and not someone so close to one of Gamzee’s allies. Eridan had given him a good political overview of the factions, even if he also gossiped to a ridiculous extent. 

“No! I just want to help!” 

“Well I don’t feel very _helped_ right now John,” Dave says in a hard voice. “So fuck off.”

John looks stricken. He absconds and Dave collapses onto the couch a few seconds after John leaves with his head between his hands. 

“So, how did that all come about?” Karkat asks.

“I’m not just sticking around because of the Grand Highblood,” Dave says as if he’d heard something completely different. 

“I’m sorry but this isn’t the misunderstanding that would be easier to resolve if the protagonists would just fucking talk to each other,” Karkat says. He goes over to the couch and sits on the end furthest from Dave. Dave gives him a look, almost amused, out of the corner of his eye. “How did that fight get started?” 

“Obviously, he offered to buy me from you,” Dave says. “Weren’t you watching just now?” 

“Dave, don’t make me come over there and pap you,” Karkat says.

“Can’t, that would be assault, which is illegal,” Dave says. Karkat snorts at that, and Dave gives him another sidelong, humorous look. “Lalonde’s been interviewing me about my career,” he says. “John was along to translate because my English isn’t as good as you think it is. We talk and the three of us are all friendly, but I think I freaked John out. Well, John and Lalonde, but Rose is made of sterner stuff and doesn’t go trying to _suborn_ people.” Dave sits up and settles against the back of the couch. “At least when you get freaked out, you just blog about the evils of coercion and grooming instead of asking me if I know that I was _raped._ ” 

“He did _what_?” Karkat ask, not able to help the angry buzzing clicks just below the words. “That pisslake gangrenous behemoth carcass! I’m going to--!” 

He starts to get up, but Dave grabs him by the arm. “Nope.”

“Dave--!” It’s all he can get out. How dare that little shit think he could attempt some kind of pale intervention on Dave, and in such a stupid, ham handed fashion? How dare he try to force Dave to process something he wasn’t ready to? Something he had carefully compartmentalized and obviously wasn’t ready to deal with? (At the same time he felt a sense of guilty, because Dave had known the reason he’d written those blog posts. _Goddammit Past Karkat, you’re an idiot._ )

“Nope. It was my fault Master,” Dave says. “Don’t make me pap you, it’s illegal.” 

Karkat could break free, probably, but not without hurting Dave. He allows himself to be pulled down next to Dave. “That little shit,” Karkat says. “That little feculent maggot.” 

“Master, don’t go pitch for your translator,” Dave says, amused. He touches Karkat’s face. It isn’t a pap, not quite, it’s too soft, too lingering. He strokes Karkat’s cheek, threads his fingers through Karkat’s hair. 

“My rage is completely platonic,” Karkat says, and can’t really help the shiver or the inclination to lean into Dave’s touch. 

Sure it is,” Dave says. 

“And he’s not going to be my translator if he’s going to be making rude pale advances at you,” Karkat says. “What the hell?” He should probably pull away from Dave’s touch, but he really doesn’t want to. (If he tried, would Dave pull him back? _That would be nice, that would be really nice,_ Karkat thinks.)

“You didn’t really get mad when Mistress Pyrope was doing whatever,” Dave says. 

“Did you threaten or want to threaten her?” Karkat asks. “Be honest. I heard you say all kind of things about Terezi being a goddamn mindwitch--very true things, I advise you to share them with her the next time you see her--but you weren’t really angry about it.” 

“Okay, point,” Dave says. “I really like her. She’s kinda nuts though.” 

“There is no ‘kinda’ about it. Only a quarter of the insane things she’s done have entered the history books. Do you want me to try to get a new translator?” Karkat asks. 

“Nah, just let his _Grandma_ yell at him or something,” Dave says. “It’s okay. Pale assault isn’t a thing for humans, at least not a big thing, I mean. I’m not sure if it would work like that?”

“Two-timing pale is also a thing that isn’t a thing for humans,” Karkat says. Part humorous and partly a little pitch. 

Dave to his disappointment doesn’t even twitch. “This isn’t pale,” he says softly. There’s something in Dave’s tone that makes Karkat shiver a little. Dave shifts on the couch so he’s facing Karkat. “Hey, can I kiss you?” he asks. 

Karkat’s thoughts fall into a tangle. He wants to say yes, but at the same time he wonders if Dave is distracting him. If Dave thinks he has to do this. “Dave,” Karkat says, and might have said more, (though he had no idea of what he was going to say) but Dave takes it as permission. He leans in and kisses Karkat on the mouth, and Karkat can’t help but to kiss back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got them to kiss. \o/
> 
> I have a multifandom/writing discord server [set up here.](https://discord.gg/npy7m) Plz be 18 or older.


	12. Chapter 12

They don’t take it to the concupiscent platform. (This is a relief.) By some mutual agreement, they break off the kissing, Dave lying on top of Karkat, ear pressed to Karkat’s chest. Karkat is lying with one of his legs dangling off the couch, idly tracing Dave’s scars. It’s nice like this, Dave is warm and solid and surprisingly comfortable. “So--” Karkat starts. 

“I don’t want to talk about what this means about the future ramifications of our relationship. We didn’t even get into pants territory,” Dave grumbles.

“I was going to suggest we see if there were any interesting human movies,” Karkat says. “Though we could also talk about the future ramifications of our relationship.” 

“Nope,” Dave says, and snuggles closer. “Movies sound great. Let’s watch all of the movies.” 

“Ramifications first,” Karkat suggests. “Sit up.” 

“I’m comfy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Karkat says with a snort. “Get up; I can’t have a serious discussion with you lying on me like a giant purrbeast.” 

“Oh no, my strategy is revealed,” Dave says, still showing no inclination to sit up. He gives an exaggerated wiggle, snuggling in and working his arms around Karkat’s waist. 

Karkat sighs. “Dave. I just want to know you’re actually okay.”

“I’m fine master,” Dave says. “I mean, I’m the one that initiated, and I wanted to initiate it and I swept you off your feet.” 

“Like the tenderest flushed ingénue to your strong and devastatingly pathetic warrior,” Karkat says dryly. 

“‘Devastatingly pathetic,’ there’s a phrase, I have no idea how I feel about,” Dave says. 

“Scars depending on their general shape and position attract compassion or admiration, you have some that go either way, so deal with it,” Karkat says. “And I’m feeling pretty flush right now. It’s more pitch when we spar.” He wants to question Dave’s motivation, but can’t think of a way to do it without insulting him. It was possibly enough that Dave had initiated, why could wait until another night. 

“Are you going to want to know if I’m ‘okay’ every time we do this?” Dave asks. 

“Possibly,” Karkat says. (He doesn’t dare interrogate the “every time we do this.”) “Terezi might get a little annoyed with me if I started horning in on her quadrant though. Serves her right for the lusus-friend thing though.” 

Dave groans. “I’m your concubine, how would that even work?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Karkat says. The sweep would be almost up by the time they got back to Imperial space. If Dave didn’t decide to stay in human space, maybe Terezi could take him in, after Karkat manumitted him. (And this was a thing Karkat was definitely going to do.) “I mean, if this were a romance novel the solution would be obvious.”

“Movies, movies now. Action, no romance,” Dave says, rolling his eyes. So they watch human action movies on the entertainment center. 

Directly after breakfast the next evening there’s a meeting between Commander Egbert, John Egbert, Dr. Lalonde, Karkat and Dave. (John seems a little surprised by Dave’s presence. Dr. Lalonde and Commander Egbert do not.) “After discussing it with Dave, I’ve decided not to demand Mister Egbert’s resignation,” Karkat says. “This is mostly because until Mister Egbert made his inappropriate advance toward Strider, they seemed to be getting along fairly well.” Egbert the younger twitches at that, almost opens his mouth to speak, but a look from Egbert the elder causes him to subside. 

The Commander’s eyebrows lift. “Inappropriate advance?” 

“Pale overtures, ma’am,” Dave says. “He left me all kinds of flustered, inquiring into my duties with undue concern, and situations during my gladiator career that occurred when escorting fans to various entertainments and private parties. Things I was relating to Doctor Lalonde while he was supposed to be translating, not making a move. When I told him to back off he did for a while, but would come right back, prying into what wasn’t his business. Then when he came over yesterday he went and offered to buy me, which was all kinds of improper, and still with the pale overtures.” Dave pauses for a moment, giving Egbert the younger an irritated look. “I told him to back off, but he had to argue about it, and then master walked in and wasn’t happy about the situation any more than I was.”

“Perhaps you could explain to John exactly where he erred, Dave,” Dr. Lalonde says.

“Mostly the undue concern,” Dave says. “I mean master gets upset about all kinds of things I tell him, but he doesn’t make like there’s something wrong with me--”

“But I didn’t!” John interjects, looking extremely upset. “I wasn’t saying there was anything wrong with you, I was trying to help!”

“John, don’t interrupt,” Commander Egbert says sternly. John’s mouth snaps shut.

“You kind of were, Egbert,” Dave says. “Making like there was something wrong with me, or I was under threat without even asking if that was the case. Anyway, master gets upset or gets to thinking how terrible everything is, but he doesn’t usually get in in my face about whatever it is he’s feeling.”

“To be fair, he probably doesn’t know the polite way to approach someone,” Karkat interjects.

“For his own culture let alone an alien one,” Dr. Lalonde says pointedly. 

“I _have_ worked with the repatriated,” John says stiffly. “That’s kind of one of the reasons I’m here.” 

“But not in a therapeutic setting, or outside a professional situation, I think,” Dr. Lalonde replies. “They might be reluctant in such a situation to explain that your behavior was impolite by their standards.” 

“Also, not repatriated.” Dave says, pushing his chair back and standing, fists clenched. The younger Egbert flinches a little, and looks away. “I’m Master Vantas’ concubine, given to him by his moirail the Grand Highblood. I was a second tier gladiator, but Master Makara decided otherwise. I came with Master Vantas to see what the UPT was like, and so far, I’m not too impressed. Someone tells you ‘back off,’ you back off unless you want to start something; you don’t just go in like what they say don’t matter because you know better like a _highblood._ There’s ways to ask if things are all right. There’s words to use. If no one gave you any, no repatriated who spoke to you trusted you with them.”

“Who trusted you?” Karkat asks dryly.

Dave flushes, and sits back down. “How do _you_ know anything?” Dave asks sounding almost wounded. “You never said anything.” 

“I know how to keep a secret?” Karkat suggests. “Also, it’s possible you learned different signs, the arena is a pretty rarefied and isolated environment. The presence of highbloods as slaves or independent athletes would logically make it difficult for the same kind of alliances and networks that form between lowblood and slave communities.” 

“You’re totally right master, it would be totally impossible,” Dave says in a mildly ragging tone. “I have no idea of how I learned anything, because there was nothing to learn, obviously.” 

Karkat rolled his eyes. “I said difficult not impossible.”

“I know how it is, you have no respect for the traditions of the ring,” Dave shoots back. 

“If you can agree with me that the treatment of some gladiators is brutal and cruel, you should be able to agree with me that the ‘traditions’ are also brutal and cruel, Dave,” Karkat says, because he can’t not comment on “the traditions of the ring.” (And there is no elderly blueblood who is Dave’s hero to frown and argue for Dave’s position.) 

“Yeah but you have this across the board thing going on,” Dave says. “And it’s not accurate and it’s not fair.” 

_“Is this argument supposed to reassure me that Dave is totally on board with being a sex slave and that he and Karkat get along really well?”_ Egbert younger asks Egbert senior in English. 

_“No dear, I believe they are actually flirting,”_ Egbert senior says, also in English.

_“Being able to stage such a performance would actually imply a great deal of cooperation, and this seems to be a fairly natural-seeming exchange,”_ Doctor Lalonde murmurs. _“You’ll also note that Mister Strider has done most of the talking up until their tiff.”_

Karkat understands about half of that, and flushes. Dave, who understands at least a third, blows Egbert younger a kiss and flutters his eyelashes. “Master don’t want a sex slave,” he says mock-sadly in English. “I’m white elephant gift. Unfulfilled and full of longings. _So many_ longings. ” The last is said in a husky, purring voice.

Egbert the younger flushes and stammers, Dr. Lalonde covers her mouth to (unsuccessfully) stifle a snicker. Egbert the elder hoots with laughter. “Young man,” she says with great amusement. “We’re here to discuss settling this diplomatic incident, not your unsatisfied longings.”

“I’m willing to call the situation settled, if Dave is,” Karkat says.

“I’m not mad, but I reserve the right to give Mister Egbert shit,” Dave says.

Egbert the younger looks a combination of flustered, embarrassed and irritated. “If Emissary Vantas and Mister Strider don’t want my resignation, I’m willing to continue translating for them.” 

“Gentlemen?” Commander Egbert asks. 

“The situation’s settled,” Dave says, and Karkat nods. 

* * *

Ampora is put out that he wasn’t at the meeting. He invites Karkat and Dave to his suite after dinner, and after dinner sweets turns into an interrogation. Ampora has some genuine concerns under the bluster, so Karkat lets it go, despite his general misgivings about the direction the “conversation” is going in. Dave handles the interrogation and attempts to provoke his temper calmly. “I won’t be an embarrassment to Master Vantas,” Dave says in answer to one of Ampora’s comments. “I can be just as diplomatic as he can.” 

“The problem being, our Vantas isn’t particularly diplomatic,” Ampora says with his ear fins flared. “The problem being, you are inherently an embarrassment, being a slave owned by an Emancipationist.”

“Yeah, but if I weren’t here in plain sight, I’d still be a slave owned by an Emancipationist, only maybe more of a scandal if someone dug me up,” Dave says. “Which wouldn’t be all that hard to do, since master writes about me in his blog.” 

“What if someone comes offering insult?” Ampora asks. “You aren’t in the ring here; you can’t just call them to face you on the sands. There’s no one arranging the fight or making bets.” 

“I don’t think I’m in the ring, you highness,” Dave says. “I’m pretty clear on that in fact.” 

“Yet you just about challenged the UPT Ambassador to a duel,” Ampora says in a challenging tone. 

“I can see how you’d be worried after hearing about that your highness,” Dave says. “I was overwhelmed by the encounter at the time and reacted badly.”

“What’s to keep you from ‘reacting badly’ in the future?” Ampora says. 

“Master Vantas giving me a disappointed lecture after?” Dave suggests innocently. 

Ampora glubs. “There isn’t a soul who fought during the Challenge who doesn’t fear that,” he says, amused. (Karkat rolls his eyes. If he was so fearsome, why hadn’t anyone managed to keep themselves _out of trouble?_ ) “What I’m lookin for here, is what you’re going to do so you don’t need to _have_ the disappointed lecture.” 

“I can hold my temper, your highness,” Dave says. “But how likely am I to get insulted by anyone who matters?” 

“There’s no sayin,” Ampora says. “You’ll be out and about, escorting the Emissary, can’t just leave you mewed up somewhere it’d be unconscionable.” 

Dave looks down at his hands. “I’ve done parties,” he says, a little hesitantly. “It can’t be too different, even it’s humans and not--”

“A buncha decadent fish?” Eridan asks archly.

“I wouldn’t say _decadent,”_ Dave says. “Just fish.” He smiles, easy and confident. “I can do this, your highness.” 

Ampora glubs again. “I hope so, because Vantas’ palemate gave us a PR mess I have to work with.” Karkat immediately wants to both defend his idiot moirail and protest that Dave doesn’t have to be on display if he doesn’t want to. “Ampora--” is all that comes out at first, with a strangled growl. “Did you even ask if Dave wanted to escort me? Or help spin my moirail’s fucking joke?”

“That’s what the whole conversation’s--”

“Interrogation,” Karkat says. 

Ampora’s fins flare a bit. _“Conversation._ What are you objectin to here? Everythin I’ve said’s geared toward him bein part of the show.” 

“Or for someone who _isn’t_ part of the show. For someone who is adjacent to the goddamn show because he just came along to see what the UPT was like!” Karkat shoots back. “You can’t just assume Dave wants to go along with your spin. Fucking _ask.”_

“I see what you mean about not being particularly diplomatic,” Dave says, looking amused and maybe a little fond. “You _ask me_ if I wanted to be defended, master?”

“Dave, do you _want_ to be buff arm candy watching every word you say so it doesn’t reflect poorly on me?” Karkat asks. 

“From what his highness says, I already do reflect poorly,” Dave says. “But maybe I want to go to fancy parties _and_ play tourist.”

“If you’re sure,” Karkat says. “But this frilly asshole over here still needs to fucking learn how to ask.” He glares at Ampora, who rolls his eyes. 

“Dave Strider, do you think you’d be willing to escort this nub horned curmudgeon while he’s doing the meet and greet, thus improvin his generally uncouth appearance by several points?” Ampora asks. 

“I think I could find time in my busy schedule to do that, your highness,” Dave says. “So, what do you want me to say about my relationship with Master Vantas?” 

The conversation turns out to be more what _Dave_ wants to say about his relationship with Master Vantas. The story is a mostly cleaned up version of events with the Grand Highblood a mysterious and whimsical figure in the background, and Karkat a quiet, gruff veteran with a successful literary career. Dave’s part in this story is as an up and coming gladiator who having gotten himself into unspecified trouble, finds himself rescued by the Grand Highblood and dropped into the quiet veteran’s lap as a kind of “witness protection.” The story is a sprightly romantic comedy with some drama as veteran and gladiator become accustomed to each other.

“The ‘quiet’ part I’m not sure anyone would buy,” Ampora says. “The rest sounds like a romance novel.” 

“Master’s co-writing my memoir,” Dave says earnestly. 

“You can write your own damn memoir,” Karkat says. “Though it sound more like you’re going for a fictionalized account of real events.” 

“I challenge you to find one thing that I’ve said that’s a lie, master,” Dave says, smirking. 

“Factually true but not _emotionally_ true,” Karkat points out. “You were definitely not feeling _rescued_ when Gamzee gave you to me.” 

Dave shrugs. “I was pretty damned pissed, master, but I didn’t know what was going on at the time, and I guess Master Makara thought it’d be funnier if he didn’t bother explaining. But that’s what he was basically doing, even though I didn’t have any idea of what was going on behind the scenes.” 

“Gamzee meant well, but that doesn’t mean much,” Karkat says. “But if you’re comfortable with this story, we’ll go with it.” 

“I fictionalized it, didn’t I?” 

“Oh my god,” Ampora says. “Could you have your flush intimations in private, like decent sentient beings?”

Karkat rolls his eyes. “If you think those were flush intimations, you’ve become weirdly prudish considering some of the movies we watched when we were wigglers.” 

“Yes, I’m a terrible prude and also a hypocrite,” Ampora says. 

“I want to hear about these movies, master,” Dave says with an interest Karkat suspects is at least 65% fake. 

“They weren’t _live shows,”_ Ampora says. “I’ll say that much.” He gets to his feet and makes honest to god shooing motions at both of them. (Neither of them moves from their seats.) “It was a charming evening and an absolute pleasure to finally meet Kar’s ex-gladiator concubine. Kar, I’ll send you the information about your first press conference, _good day.”_

Karkat gets to his feet slowly, just to show he isn’t being successfully shooed. “Let’s go, Dave.” Dave follows him out of Ampora’s suite, trying not to snicker, but failing. 

* * *

The first press conference takes place on a station orbiting Fatima, a small, cold planet on the very edge of the habitable zone of a yellow dwarf named Leones. Ampora gives a speech about cultural exchange and introduces Karkat, who starts off with a speech about the Challenge and how instrumental the assistance of the UPT (and certain groups among the repatriated) had been in how the Heiress had won her battle. John translates where Karkat’s command of English fails him, in a very professional manner. (In addition to English, there’s captioning on screens in Arabic and Spanish.) “I am pleased to finally be visiting the UPT, and look forward to learning more about the various human cultures and their literature,” Karkat says at the end of the speech. 

After the speeches there is about an hour of questions. Many of the questions are about his books, his travel plans. They ask how he feels about his books being illegally downloaded and distributed. “I’m glad that they have some popularity, and people are being entertained by them. I’d be unhappy about not receiving royalties if I depended on them to make my living. Fortunately my writing does fairly well in the Alternian Empire.” No one asks if his “popularity” has anything to do with being the Grand Highblood’s moirail. 

There are questions about his stated goal to speak to various repatriated communities. “The Empress feels an obligation to see that the repatriated are doing well for themselves,” Karkat says in response. “She wishes to see how the repatriated are reintegrating into the UPT.” 

“There’s some concern that she’s using the repatriated as an excuse to insert herself into UPT affairs,” one of the reporters, a thin human man with glasses and thick brows says. “What can you tell us about her motives?” 

“Her motives are exactly what I’ve said,” Karkat says. “She has no intention to use the repatriated as an ‘excuse’ to do anything. She considers the UPT to be a valuable ally and trading partner. She is simply concerned for the welfare of the repatriated and their quadrants, quadrant corners and progeny.”

“And if she isn’t satisfied with the treatment of the repatriated?” Another reporter asks. She’s a dark skinned woman with her hair in elaborate braids. 

“In light of a number of egalitarian reforms she’s pushing through our Senate, she invites any repatriated individual, family or community unhappy with their situation to return to the Alternian Empire,” Karkat says. “Their passage will be paid for, and they will be eligible for Imperial Sponsorship.” He shrugs. “But I’m sure there won’t be many takers. I hope to meet activists and leaders in the repatriated communities, and help them educate local authorities about the unique blend of cultures the repatriated represent.” 

There are a number of questions about his credentials as a diplomat, requests for clarification about what he means about the cultures of the repatriated. Karkat answers a few more questions before Ampora takes over again to end the press conference. “No one asked about Dave,” Karkat notes as they’re heading back to the ship. 

“I had an idea of what you’d say,” Ampora says. “The bare facts and then ‘you’ll have to ask him yourself,’ repeated over and over again. So I gave ‘em the basic facts and told ‘em they’d get booted for inquirin about your household. I got you both set up to go on one of them syndicated interview programs.” 

There’s a meeting afterward with Rose and John about how the press conference went. Dave sits in on it, much to the surprise of Ampora. The surprise quickly turns to outrage because it turns out that Dave is there because he decided to log into several social media sites, forums and news sites to comment on discussions related to Karkat’s arrival in the UPT. (He’d also converted some of his vid recordings and image files to UPT standard versions and posted them.) “I get that you wanted to introduce us as a couple, Master Ampora, but then I thought, how about we introduce ourselves as individuals, and then as a couple,” Dave says at the end of Ampora’s rant. 

“You know fuck all about PR,” Ampora grinds out. 

“You think I don’t?” Dave says. “I mostly decided what went into my online profile. I’d talk it out with Master Terhun’s PR people twice a perigee.” 

“This is supposed to be a cultural exchange an a diplomatic tour,” Ampora says. “Not a gladiator self-promoting his career as a TrollTube star.” 

Dave smirks. “What’s more cultural than dance?” he asks. “Anyway, I mostly just introduced myself and corrected some misconceptions and talked about master’s books.” 

Ampora hisses, fins flared. Dave fails to look intimidated. 

“Eridan,” Karkat interjects sharply. Ampora breaks off his glare and blinks at Karkat, a little owlishly. “Have your people said anything about this?” 

“No,” Ampora says after some grumbling. 

“So it probably isn’t an emergency,” Karkat says. “Talk to them and go over what Dave’s said so far.”

“And if they think it’s a bad idea all around?” Ampora asks.

“You’ll have to discuss that with Dave,” Karkat says. “And by discuss, I don’t mean try to intimidate.” 

After some more discussion, the meeting ends and Karkat and Dave go back to their suite. Karkat settles onto the couch, and flicks through the entertainment center’s menu. Dave joins him a few minutes later. “What kind of misconceptions?” Karkat asks. 

“Still don’t feel I was coerced to fight,” Dave says, nudging his shoulder against Karkat’s. “I was groomed maybe, but not coerced. I _liked_ fighting,” he says. “No loyalty programming or conditioning involved. Some of them were talking shit about you, so I couldn’t let that stand.”

“You’re the only one allowed to do that?”

“Damn straight,” Dave says, settling his arm around Karkat’s shoulders. 

“Did the loyalty programming come up before or after you defended my honor?” Karkat asks. 

Dave makes an “either way” gesture with his free hand. “After that I ended up snarking back and forth with some repatriated. A few domestic workers, a few office workers, and one agri.” 

“People you might want to meet in person?” Karkat asks. 

“You trying to set me up?” Dave asks, amused. “Want to make sure I can socialize with my own kind?” 

“Not setting you up,” Karkat says. “And you seem to get along with John and Rose. Are you getting along with John and Rose?” 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Dave says. “John and me talked it out, and Rose refereed.” Dave smirks. “There was all kind of ashen action going on.” His tone is amused, and mocking. 

“Jealousy is not actually a healthy emotion to bring to a relationship, Dave,” Karkat says in a lecturing tone. “Rose is as welcome to your ashen non-quadrant as Terezi is to your pale non-quadrant.” He pauses. “But please don’t try to flirt pitch with Eridan. He has a kismesis.” 

“Heh. I wasn’t. I was just giving him shit,” Dave says. 

“Yes well, _I_ can give him shit,” Karkat says. “I’ve known him longer.”


	13. Chapter 13

[terminusgladiates.bubblr.com/chrono]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: All you are is a creepy brainwashed freak. There are people still recovering from horrific abuse at the hands of Trolls and here you are talking about how slavery isn’t that bad.

nope 

pretty sure i never said that looking through all my posts so far and i am pretty sure i never said that what i did say was that i was pretty lucky after a pretty bad time

more lucky than i think i deserve sometimes when someone else had it worse 

(doctor lalonde is at my shoulder right now saying how it’s not a competition about how worse someone else had it)

and if you are saying im brainwashed dont that mean i too am recovering from horrific abuse because brainwashing = horrific abuse

do you have an ideal template of how an abuse victim is supposed to act that i could follow im serious here how can i behave in a way you want me too brosis so ill meet your standards

[translator: John Egbert]

calamitycats asks terminusgladiates: Bearing in mind you might not be able to answer. Does anyone decide what you’re going to say?

eh yes and no i pretty much started posting/uploading on my own wanted to get the ball rolling early before the tabloids did about the capital r relationshipvi may have gotten in a tiny amount of trouble with the ambassador the emissary didnt care though and the actual team handling the press didnt have a problem with it

the emissary reads over my shoulder sometimes and critiques my writing

doctor lalonde occasionally suggests better language

and theres egbert who mostly translates

the only post so far that was nixed was a poll for the other half of the emissarys title i am not allowed to crowdsource sobriquets 

srsly though Loudyell would be the best name

[translator: John Egbert]

Edit to add:

[Note from Emissary: NO IT WOULDN’T STOP TRYING TO MAKE LOUDYELL HAPPEN]

golgothasterror asks: You’re spot on chum! No one person processes what happened to them in the same way. Your anonymous unfriend had no right to speak to you so!

understood gt

anonymous hate is pretty puzzling to me though

its not like id challenge them to a duel 

it would make the emissary sad

(it would possibly also make him sad if i talked about how damn cowardly it is so i won’t talk about how damn cowardly it is)

also i think dueling is illegal

challenge them to a bar fight maybe

nothing to see hear officers just a random bar fight

nothing prearranged or anything

[translator: John Egbert]

golgothasterror replies: Ha! I wouldn’t mind a *friendly* bout with you! There was always a bit of rough and tumble with some bets on the side when I was a sprog on AGRI-Station 612413!

i would totally take you up on that bro ive mostly been sparring with master whose no slouch but its been a while since i fought someone taller than me or fought fistkind.

[translator: John Egbert]

terminusgladiates posted:

[Image: Author Karkat Vantas looking up at the camera and glaring blearily over his breakfast bowl. His hair is a rumpled mess and he’s wearing a fuzzy gray bath robe. ]

caption: before

[Image: Author Karkat Vantas, glaring at the camera while wearing a suit and tie. His hair has not noticeably changed from the previous picture.]

caption: after

heres master off to get his daily scheduled lecturing in as you can see no comb has ever defiled his hair

its a tragic situation here

im accepting donations for the buy my master a comb fund

Edit to add:

[Note from Emissary: STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT MY HAIR DAVE COMPLAINING ABOUT MY HAIR IS NEVER FUNNY.]

ill stop complaining when you actually comb your hair master

[translator: John Egbert]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: What do you like about dancing? Do you think you might make it a career?

mostly its fun and good exercise i always liked tumbling which was something i got lessons in because being fast and flexible were kind of a requirement when it became pretty clear i wasn’t going to suddenly shoot up a half meter or anything

it became a more invested interest after i started talking with professional quadrant facilitators a few of whom became interested in me and started critiquing my first few dance vids if im doing something i like to be really, really good at it so i started practicing more and adding it to my usual exercise routine or just to get the extra energy out

(maybe a little because im an exhibitionist and masters martyred pining thing was funny)

i dont think it will be a career career i had too late of a start its just going to be one more thing i have up on my trolltube account

[translator: John Egbert]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: how many trolls have you killed? Do you like killing trolls? Have you ever killed another human?

its not like i have notches on my belt or something citizen

maybe something like a fifty probably more than that

not all fights are to the death unless youre talking execution duels

whether or not you like killing trolls is not exactly something you talk about lest you attract the wrong kind of fan such is the gladiatorial wisdoms that were passed down to me by a veteran gladiator owned by master paysun terhun

yes and that’s pretty much all im gonna say about it

[translator: John Egbert]

tinymonstergirl asks terminusgladiates: I saw you on Josh Miller last night. You and the Emissary were really funny! (Somehow I didn’t expect that to be a thing?) I was just wondering you were both referring to being owned by the Emissary as a relationship. Do you really think of it that way?

relationship doesnt have to mean a romantic relationship i mean you can call the interactions between a parent and their kid a relationship and you can call interactions between you and your employer a relationship therefore you can call being a concubine to a guy who never wanted one a relationship and he really really didnt want one in his own words he decided to treat me like a combination of a guest and someones lusus he was taking care of a real hands off approach while trying to be as accommodating and entertaining as possible

it did not go so well my friend it did not go so well at all

later on he realizes he wants to be friends with me and he couldnt let himself do that and later on after that he decides he wants to court my fine self 

not an easy thing to do considering he didnt want me to be a concubine since i sure didnt want to be a concubine

(not of course that I have any disrespect for sex workers i am in awe of their mad skills holy shit the things i learned in training and while talking with courtesans at various parties temeri rakula i salute you in all your concupiscent glory where ever you are i mean hot damn)

and neither of us knew master makara had multiple reasons for setting us up the way he did so things were strained for a while

but i like talking to him and hes cute and he stays up with me when im having a bad time and hes i have no way to put this that isnt embarrassing as fuck

just bear with me because its embarrassing

nope still got to wait for it

okay fuck

hes kind

just genuinely stupidly concerned about making sure everything is okay and giving me as much space as i need and sweet in really unexpected ways 

[translator: John Egbert]

* * *

They’re in the Leones System for almost two weeks. Two interview programs, a number of public speaking engagements, some introductions to local dignitaries and tours of the various refugee communities. Karkat talks about the Empress’ reform efforts, trade and cultural exchange. He talks to various leaders in the refugee communities on Fatima and various stations in the Leones System, one of whom had made contact with Dave. 

Jake English is tall for a human, with dark hair and green eyes. He belongs to a cultivar of the Christian religion and is a minister. He is also involved with an organization that shelters the homeless (many of whom are repatriated). English invites Dave and Karkat to speak at his church and to dinner at his home afterward. Security is minimal, and unobtrusive. 

At the church, Karkat ends up mostly talking about his books in a mix of Alternian, English and a little Spanish. He also talks a little bit about how Dave came to be living with him. (Dave interjects with comments about the books and the classes he’d been taking before the book tour that had led to the cultural exchange mission.) The dinner is more of the same, with some political discussion mixed in. Jake asks a lot of questions about the mission, offers advice and the names of people Karkat might want to contact. “One of them is my cousin Jade Harley,” he says. “She’s a minister too! I think she’ll especially want to speak to you, though she mentioned there might be legal difficulties.” 

Karkat thinks about that for a second. “Your cousin is a Preceptor of the Signless Cult?” he asks in Alternian. “How did that happen?” 

“Jade was raised by her Grampa a mechanic owned by the Chief Engineer of our AGRI-Station,” Jake says. “Though when I say raised by her Grandfather, she was mostly being raised by the Chief Engineer’s lusus and taught within the Signless Cult by the Chief. When the repatriations began, the Chief sent Jade along with our family. Gram English wasn’t happy that Jade was raised Signlessist, but the Signless Cult was at least respectable by her lights, so it wasn’t hard at all to let Jade go her own way, especially since an argument between Gram English and Jade would’ve been a battle between the unstoppable force and immovable object for certain.” 

Jake smiled. “We had one hell of a time with the lusus though! The silly beast wouldn’t be parted from Jade, and we had to jump through all sorts of hoops to take Beck with us. The Chief was no help at all, ‘Dad adores her, and she needs someone to keep her out of trouble. ’” 

“The lusus was allowed accompany your cousin?” Karkat asks. 

“I think we ended up being one of the precedents for dealing with lusii that’ve bonded with a human,” Jake says. “I don’t think it could be the same as the relationship between a Troll and their lusus, but Jade and Beck certainly seem like two peas in a pod!”

“Huh,” Karkat said. “What kinds of lusii usually bond with humans?” He asks curiously. 

“Oh, usually the small to mid-sized pseudo-mammals,” Jake says. “I’ve met a few people with avians of one type or another though. Generally the smaller ones.” He laughs. “That’s a bit of a tangent. Jade was able to get a scholarship to study comparative religions, met up with other Signlessists and became a bit of a globe trotter. I think she wants to get in touch with you, but there are legal reasons why she might not be able to?” 

“I’m banned from speaking about the Signlessist Cult, or about the Signless,” Karkat says. “Not from speaking to individual or groups of Signlessists, as long as I don’t speak about the Cult. I’m, I guess you could say I’m ‘abdicated’ from any responsibilities associated with my alleged Ancestor.”

_“Like Jesus’ Second Coming being building ships,”_ Dave says in English. He pronounces “Jesus” as almost “Zhaysh,” and there’s a lot of dropped consonants and broadened vowels. (John refers to Dave’s accent as “half Tex, kinda Mex and a lot of Alternian phonemes.”) 

Karkat is a little bit worried that Dave might have committed blasphemy of some kind, but Jake laughs. “Well, He was a working man as much as a teacher,” Jake says. “If He wants to work in a shipyard, who would tell Him no? Your situation about your ‘alleged Ancestor’ seems to be a little different though, Mister Vantas. How did the legal restriction come about? Or is talking about it restricted?” 

“No, that part isn’t restricted,” Karkat says. “The seeds started around the time my moirail and I went to confront the previous Grand Highblood.” Who had had a completely unexpected reaction to their presence in his throne room: instead of a confrontation followed by a battle, the Grand Highblood had immediately declared his support for the Heiress. (After laughing so hard he’d been barely able to stay on his throne.) 

He talked about living with the Church of the Two Messiahs while Gamzee was being trained for his position. He talked about the debates and conversations between the previous Grand Highblood and the new Empress, and about the negotiation that had led to Karkat’s abdication. “They worked out the restrictions, and I made a speech that was mostly about rejecting the destinies other people made for you, and not being tied to completing the mission or purpose of your Ancestors, which had its own problems that the Empress had to make a series of sermons about later. It was recorded and broadcast, and for a while there was trouble from splinter groups, but eventually things calmed down, mostly because the Signless Cult wasn’t forbidden anymore.” 

“See?” Dave asks Jake. “I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“No,” Karkat says, and Dave smirks. 

Jake English snorts. “If Christ came and wanted a working vacation instead of the Last Trump, I’m sure no one would complain about it. Though I doubt He’d need to go through all that rigmarole to achieve it!”

They talk some more, Karkat making a tentative agreement to contact some of the people on the list (including the cousin) and then they head back to the ship. Dave gets buried in his bubblr mailbox for most of the night and Karkat ends up in a discussion with Egbert and Lalonde about the visit the next evening for “sociological research purposes.” 

(Karkat makes an elaborate point that no one tried to buy Dave from him at the church or at the dinner. Dave: “Master, stop going black for your translator.” Rose: “Since I’m already auspistizing for Dave and John, I don’t want to break my club.” Karkat: “I’m not flirting. I’m just pointing out the shocking lack of offers to take Dave off my hands.” John: “No one is flirting with anyone! Shut up Dave!” Dave: “Hahahahah. You’re not _my master_. I do what I want.” Karkat: “Dave stop going black for _my_ translator.” John: “Argh!”) 

Overall, the trip in the Leones system is successful, and the mission moves on. 

* * *

There are xenophobic pundits to argue with, some of them armed with studies that may or may not prove their points. Karkat ends up on a number of political discussion programs arguing with experts actual and self-proclaimed about the repatriated. He listens to people who seem to honestly want to help the repatriated, people who consider them to be traitors and people who want them to stop stealing jobs from the more worthy. 

“I’m finding it pretty upsetting that most of these programs I’m on, there haven’t been many repatriate activists,” Karkat says to Eridan after the most recent program. This one had been on an autonomous space colony. The other members of the panel had been a xenophobic “conservative” pundit, two sociologists that spent a lot of time verbally stabbing each other, some variety of clergyman, and a minor politician. “Are they deliberately trying to leave the repatriated out of the discussion?” 

“In this case, no one contacted wanted to be in the same room with Charles West,” Eridan says. 

“West was the xenophobe?” Karkat asks. 

Eridan nods. “Not since Kay Aguirre broke his jaw at a one of his ‘patriot rallies.’ I can see about getting you to see more activists, there have been actually a few who’ve wanted to contact you.” 

“Any security concerns?”

“I don’t think so,” Eridan says. “Looks like you’ve been getting a pretty positive response, among the repatriated. Lots of trouble from the xenophobes.”

“That’s to be expected,” Karkat says and then after a moment’s thought, “Next show I want Kay Aguirre on the panel. At least, I want to meet them.” 

Eridan snorts. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Karkat collects articles and political cartoons about the tour. There are some negative articles directed at Dave, or Karkat owning Dave. There are articles about the Emancipationists in the Empire. There are some articles about the book tour. Dr. Lalonde has to explain the cartoons, which seem to be relying on some cultural shorthand that Karkat doesn’t really get. (When explained, some of them are pretty funny.) He comments on some of the articles and writes opinion pieces of his own. 

Dave continues to blog, downloading his bubblr to each new planetary network or station. He posts pictures, and writes about places he’s visited, his experiences as a gladiator. He posts pictures about the tour and his opinions of the political shows Karkat appears on. He answers questions, some of them very personal. He’ll answer most of them, but Karkat notices that he generally avoids or evades questions about his life before his station had been destroyed. Of course, instead of backing off and not prying into an area Dave doesn’t want to go into, they keep asking about Houston Station.

Eventually, Dave has enough of this, and Karkat finds out what Gamzee meant about Dave having a “challenging” lusus. 

okay for the curious who seriously need to stop prying: i did not exactly have an idyllic childhood before houston station was destroyed my guardian was neglectful and probably shouldnt ever have had custody of a kid because he was a creep who wouldn’t come home for days at a time i would fucking have to hoard food because he wouldn’t leave money for groceries when he disappeared, and we usually ate take out when he was there

but i still loved him because kids are stupid like that

sometimes he let me play with his djing equipment and play sword fight with me though that mostly involved him waving his sword around and hitting me with it to toughen me up or whatever 

he died during the attack and that messed me up for a long time 

so i would really prefer it if the questions about houston station would stop

“You didn’t have to tell them anything you didn’t feel comfortable telling them,” Karkat says later, after not watching a movie with Dave. (They had mostly been kissing.) Now Dave was lying with his head in Karkat’s lap, and Karkat was sitting with one of his hands resting on Dave’s arm. 

“They were coming up with all kinds of reasons on their own,” he says. “Though maybe I shouldn’t have done that. Who knows what they’ll come up with now.” His tone turns dryly sarcastic. “Slave identifies with captors after years of abuse at the hands of his guardian.”

“Do you?” Karkat asks. 

“Dunno,” Dave says. “Just…the closest thing I had to a real brother who looked after me was an older brown blood student at the school feed assigned to take care of me and teach me Alternian. For the first time in ever I had friends and teachers. The closest thing I had to a--a _parental figure_ was Master Terhun.” 

Karkat doesn’t say anything, but Dave takes the silence as censure instead of silent understanding, because he says defensively, “I know, I know they were using me. That they just wanted to manipulate me into wanting to fight. But it was real sword fighting, not just me getting hit a lot by an asshole who barely had a concept of how to hold a damn sword or even the basics of proper footwork. It was hard, it was really hard at the school, but I _wanted_ to fight.” 

“I understand,” Karkat says. “I don’t always _agree,_ but I understand. You had a career, and you had people you respected and cared about. A place to belong.”

“Yeah,” Dave says. He laughs. “I wonder what Master Terhun would think of me thinking of him as a custodian.” 

“You want to contact Paysun Terhun or anyone else about anything in particular, and I’ll be right behind you, so will Terezi,” Kakat says. 

“I have no idea how I feel about Mistress Pyrope having my back. Wanting to have my back,” Dave says. “And I have even less of an idea of what I’d say to Master Terhun. ‘Why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to set me up against indigoes?’ ‘Did you sell me to Master Makara because you were saving me or saving yourself trouble?’ ‘Thanks for never straight out ordering me to have sex with someone?’” 

Karkat can’t help but twitch at that last one. Dave reaches up and paps him, a hard little tap on the cheek. “Dave--” he starts to protest. 

“I went on dates with fans and admirers,” Dave says flatly. “Sometimes there was sex. It’s a thing. Stop doing the ‘poor pitiful Dave’ thing.” 

“I can’t help it,” Karkat says. “I am continually finding new ways of pitying you.”

“Exert yourself,” Dave says with a frown. 

Karkat can’t help the smile. “I’ll try to be less annoying about it,” he says. “How about that?” 


	14. Chapter 14

There are receptions and galas he attends, usually with Dave accompanying him. Karkat renews his acquaintance with generals and diplomats, gets introduced to politicians, CEOs and celebrities. The conversations are interesting and occasionally even topical. Karkat asks questions and gets a feel for the political situation surrounding the repatriated. He makes suggestions and (despite protests from Ampora) he argues. (Karkat: “If she wanted someone who was going to be careful and polite she would have picked Kanaya or maybe Equius.”) He talks about serial programs he’s been a guest on and the repatriated leaders and activists he’s spoken to. He answers questions about his books. 

No one quite knows how to interact with Dave at first. There’s a certain sense of caution, of embarrassment, a kind of titillated horror. (Occasionally, there’s more than a little pale concern, though no one has made an offer for Dave, at least not where Karkat could hear, and Dave hasn’t said anything.) Dave is amused by the uncertainty and caution. In his broken (but improving daily thanks to John) English he makes jokes, teases the uncomfortable and reassures the concerned. 

Dave is a good partner at these parties. Karkat’s better at making speeches, negotiating in more formal settings, managing others giving advice. He is not really good at the more freewheeling conversations and alliances of political courts. Dave has a knack for clever conversation, for making acquaintances. Dave asks questions, he charms. This gives Karkat the opportunity to observe, to judge and plan a conversational strategy. (Karkat talks to Eridan about Dave getting an Imperial Sponsorship and a monetary reward for his service. Eridan won’t agree to the amount Karkat suggests but agrees to contact Feferi.)

There are some of the expected negative articles and wild accusations from various tabloids. Some of them were of the “slave identifies with captors” variety. When an interviewer one of the programs they were guests on asked questions about it, it’s usually Dave who responds. “I wouldn’t say I identified with my captors,” Dave says in response to the question on one occasion. “I identified with my fellow students, other neophytes and veteran gladiators. There’s a kind of community? Comradery? That’s important to me.” 

“Even though you might have to fight someone to the death?” the interviewer asked. 

“Maybe especially then? It’s the competition and the art of your weaponkind that’s important,” Dave says. “It’s what you bring to the ring, just you and them and all your strength and skill. The fight, the challenge is worth the risk of dying. In the ring, I was willing to risk getting killed to prove my skill in combat against other fighters. Nothing outside of that was really important.” He glances at Karkat. “Here’s where master jumps in about coercion and the evils of bloodsports.”

“After that heartfelt apologism? I’d be a monster,” Karkat says sarcastically. 

The first time Dave calls him “Karkat” instead of “Master” is a shock. Karkat’s arguing in the comments of an article he’s written, muttering unflattering things about the commenters under his breath. Dave comes up behind him, drapes his arms around Karkat’s shoulders and sets his chin between Karkat’s horns. “Don’t you know not to read the comments Karkat?” He asks. 

Karkat freezes and accidentally posts a keysmash. The keysmash accurately displays the current state of his thinkpan. “Globefondling shitmonkeys you said my name,” is the first thing that comes to mind. He wouldn’t have thought he’d react so strongly, but his heart is racing and his tangled thoughts tumble over each other in a mess of mostly red-pale feelings.

“Should I not have?” Dave asks, a little uncertain. He starts to pull away, but Karkat catches him by the wrist before he gets too far.

“No, I was surprised,” Karkat says. He lets Dave go, turns the chair around to face him. “I was hoping you would, eventually, but I didn’t expect it, and didn’t want to push it. _God._ ” His voice was shaking a little, his tone rough to his ears. 

“My acknowledging your name should totally make you cry tears of joy,” Dave says, teasing but still a little uncertain. 

“If I were crying--which I’m not you unmitigated sack of bulges--it would be tears of frustration,” Karkat says, voice thick. “There’s a--a feeling of pride in your kismesis that they took a step forward in some way. And a feeling of pride in your matesprit that they can trust you. And I’m feeling both at once? It’s fucking ridiculous. I maybe put a lot of weight in you calling me by name, more than I realized? That it would be a sign you trusted me. And holy shit I’m maudlin as fuck.” 

“Well, romance writer,” Dave says, smiling. “No surprise you’d be overwhelmed by the intimacy and trust all up in here.”

“Now it’s platonic aggravation I’m mostly feeling,” Karkat says, giving Dave a dark look. 

Dave is completely unfazed, moving in for a kiss. “Sure you are,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “Wanna take this to the couch?” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Only if you refrain from wiggling your eyebrows at me for the duration,” Karkat grumbles. He turns back to the computer. “Let me end the conversation--”

“Nah,” Dave says, and pulls the chair away from the keyboard. “You’ll be here all day. Let me.” He writes in response to a commenter asking about the keysmash: karkat was…….distacted 

* * *

They go to Earth, of course. It’s the home world for humanity and the central seat of government for the United Planets of Terra. Karkat talks to prime ministers and attends hearings. He talks to activists and reporters supporting one position or another. A lot of the conversations are hostile, but Karkat argues them down. It’s not too much different from speaking for the Heiress, while Feferi was looking for allies prior to her Challenge. (It’s also not too much different from the alliance talks during the Challenge.) 

Dave is brought up frequently as a bone of contention, or a trump card, as if his arguments were any less true because of Dave. (He’s not surprised that this would be the case.) Karkat finds himself arguing a lot about not only Dave, but Gamzee. Trying to explain Gamzee’s sense of humor and motivations are hard, and also a little exasperating. He doesn’t want to defend Gamzee, but at the same time, he feels he has to. Dave watches this for a few days, looking amused before he steps in during a talk show interview. “Master Makara probably didn’t know anything about the Empress’ plans to have the Emissary investigate the treatment of her gifts,” Dave says in answer to a question to Karkat, John translates. “I say probably because who even knows. I spent a perigee with him and I still couldn’t figure him out.” 

Kamala Nguyen, their interviewer on a late night program frowns. “You have to admit it seems suspicious, that he would attempt to discredit--”

Karkat is about to interject angrily when he’s surprised by Dave making a warning sound. It’s a loud blatting buzz with his mouth and fingers, a fairly accurate impression of the sound that indicates that a hatch or gate hasn’t been closed correctly. Ms. Nguyen straightens, looking surprised. “Nope,” Dave says in English. “Master Makara would never try to discredit Karkat. They’re moirails and that’s kind of important. This is more of what he’d call a prank from the Mirthful Ones, I think. Something put in motion like we’re all in a romantic comedy being written and directed by terrifying eldritch pranksters.” The rest is translated by John. 

“A romantic comedy?” Ms. Nguyen asks skeptically. 

“Well I’m sure master would like to be all ‘this is a political drama with some action’ but no, it’s a romantic comedy. In Which A Former Alien Gladiator and A Romance Author Are Thrown Together by Fate in the Form of the Author’s Highblooded Moirail Who Wants To Manage His Moirail’s Sadly Empty Quadrants. Featuring Pro Emancipationist Rhetoric a Slow Burn Romance a Number of Surprising Revelations Concerning the Highblood’s Actual Motives and Lots of Awkward Discussions About Consent. Warnings For Xenophilia, Quadrant Smearing and Aquadratic Characters,” John translates for Dave. 

“Warning for Aquadratic characters is orientation shaming and inappropriate,” Karkat grumbles, because he can’t help himself. 

“Little steps, master. Representation is important but we can’t shock our fan base,” Dave says in English. “Gotta let them know what they’re getting into.”

Karkat snorts. “‘We?’” he asks. “Still not ghost writing your memoirs, Strider.” 

“You’ll have no choice; you’ll be lured closer to the pit by the smell of bad grammar and typos. Then my tentacles of prose will drag you under,” Dave says in English. 

The conversation turns in the direction of the hypothetical memoir, then briefly back to Karkat’s position as Emissary before it’s time to end the interview. 

After spending some time in the green room talking over the phone with Ampora they head back to the ship, Dave and John talking about the hypothetical memoir. “Are you really thinking about writing a memoir?” John asks Dave once they’re in the limo.

“I dunno, maybe,” Dave says. “I will totally write it as a romantic comedy though,” he says with a teasing glance at Karkat. 

“You can write it like fan fiction,” Karkat says. “A coffee shop AU where you stumble into acting as an auspistice for Terezi and Gamzee.”

“Where are you in this fan fic?” Dave asks. “And am I customer at this coffee shop, or a minion of the coffee shop?”

“Minion. I am a mysterious benefactor who you at first only know by the sound of my voice,” Karkat says. “You don’t know until midway through the story that Gamzee is my moirail and Terezi is a good if exasperating hatefriend of mine.”

“Not a potential kismesis?” Dave asks, looking amused. 

“Regrettably, I’m still myself in this story, and therefore pretty much all over the place in regards to my quadrants,” Karkat says. “Also, a mutant and a terrible choice for a concupiscent quadrant.”

“But my hapless flailing because of the ashen flirting awakens a spark of true pity and or sheer exasperation that inspires you to come to my rescue.”

“That and I’m pretty sure Gamzee and or Terezi will kill the coffee shop owner for punishing you for your interventions, rendering the workers’ lives even more complicated and unpleasant.”

“Gotta think about the lives of those ordinary workers, struggling to earn their allowances and buy their retirement,” Dave says, nodding. 

“Are you flirting?” John asks, looking a little red in the face. “I’m pretty sure both of you are flirting.”

“That would be a thing that’s happening,” Dave says. 

“Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Egbert?” Karkat asks. 

“No!” Egbert says quickly. “It’s just hard to tell sometimes?” 

“Don’t worry we’re not gonna start macking in the back seat,” Dave says. 

“That’s really, really not likely to happen,” Karkat says. 

“Master’s shy,” Dave says in a stage whisper to John. 

“I have a sense of decorum,” Karkat says in an attempt at a quelling tone. Predictably, it just makes Dave grin. 

Dave teases John all the way to the ship and Karkat joins in with an occasional comment of his own. Though there had been a few rocky incidents--like John’s attempt to rescue Dave by purchasing him--Karkat was beginning to feel more than a little hatefriendly toward the human. John was an intelligent if occasionally oblivious individual and watching Dave reduce John to sputtering near-nonsense was entertaining. (John occasionally won the bouts, though not by very much.)

Once in their quarters, they occupy themselves with social media, Karkat on the console, Dave reading on the human equivalent of a husktop, reading the reactions to the most recent interview. (They start a thread with each other on a forum site. Someone asks: Okay so you are both in the same room pretty much? WHY are you arguing with each other in this thread? Dave responds: sometimes is more comfortable to talk in text Karkat writes: YES. THIS IS MORE COMFORTABLE FOR ME ANYWAY AS MOST OF MY EARLY SOCIAL INTERACTIONS WERE VIA TEXT.) The conversation wandered off into the realm of early social development. 

After an hour or two on social media they retreat for the couch and the entertainment center. Dave is exploring Terran musical genres so a lot of what they watch are music videos. Karkat notices a certain theme to the lyrics of a number of songs three songs into the most recent playlist and gives Dave a suspicious look. “‘Grind,’ ‘Pump,’ ‘I Want Your Honey’?” Karkat asks. 

“Just some songs I want to try out for future dance routines,” Dave says with a little smirk. “Pitch dancing to plainly red concupiscent songs?”

“I’m branching out, maybe,” Dave says. “Gonna master all the quadrant styles. Wait, what would ashen dancing look like? Or pale?” 

“It wouldn’t look like anything,” Karkat says. “Well okay, there are artistic compositions about moiraillegiance and auspistism but the style you were being taught is a purely concupiscent style.”

“Maybe I should watch them, to practice for Terezi,” Dave says. “Get all pale seductive in her grill.” 

“She gets sad, doesn’t always believe that she’s done anything good or worthwhile, which is plainly idiotic, but depression generally doesn’t make sense anyway,” Karkat says. “Make her breakfast, make her go out to see the moons every so often; she’s actually worse than Sollux if she isn’t on a case.” 

“Spilling the beans on your hatefriend?” Dave asks, smiling a little. 

“Relaying easily observable facts,” Karkat says, mock-defensively. “Such as a playlist with a theme, and you not answering my question.”

“Your question was literally just repeating song titles, master,” Dave points out. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Implied question: are you setting a mood here or something?” Karkat asks. He’s surprised to see a faint blush on Dave’s cheeks. 

“Maybe,” Dave says, averting his gaze slightly. “So I figured either you thought I wasn’t ready for the full sex, or you weren’t ready, therefore, mood music.” 

Karkat felt his own face heat up, which was ridiculous. He wasn’t some newly Ascended flush ingénue; he was an adult, dammit. “Mood music. For me or you?” He asks dryly. “You should know my taste in concupiscent music by now; this isn’t it.” 

“Well, fight over the remote to make the music stop, kissing, below the pants action,” Dave says. “It’s a romantic classic?” 

Karkat pretends to consider it. “It’s acceptable, for a very pre-Ascension style romance like the Black Candy Crush series. ‘Two hatefriends meet for the first time and discover pitch feelings for each other and it’s adorkable.’”

“So you think my mad romance skills are on the same level as a romance book for wigglers?” Dave asks with a frown of not-quite-mock disappointment. 

“Only a wiggler thinks there’s something wrong with reading romances written for wigglers,” Karkat says. “Wigglers are so desperate to grow up and matter they think rejecting what they liked as a wiggler is part of being an adult. It’s really sad.” Karkat sighs and shakes his head in mock dismay. 

Dave stares at him. “I am not a wiggler,” he says. “Okay, you’re older than me by a few sweeps--” 

“Five, at least,” Karkat says. “That’s a pretty considerable chunk of time, for a human.” 

“Yeah, I would have been past my prime in another seven or eight sweeps. Maybe I still will be,” Dave says, and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“You’ll be just as obnoxiously pitiful and I wouldn’t mind having you around, that is if you still had an interest in my decrepit ass,” Karkat says. 

“I’ll push your four wheeled device out onto the patio every evening,” Dave offers. “Serve you soft boiled eggs and cool featherbeast broth for breakfast; mock your collection of literary awards.” 

“Heh.” Karkat leans in for a kiss, makes a surprised little grunt when Dave falls back onto the couch, taking Karkat along for the ride. “I’ve only gotten one-- _oh.”_ Karkat can feel the line of Dave’s rigid bulge pressing up against him. It makes _his_ bulge shift and press back. He starts to rise up a little, but Dave pulls him close.

“You’ve got one?” Dave asks mock innocently. “I’ve got one too, and I think it’s past time they had their first play date.” 

Karkat sputters, somewhere between laughter and outrage; then Dave is kissing him again, and coherent thought fucks off, never to be seen again. 

* * *

Karkat wakes up with Dave’s head on his shoulder one of his arms across Karkat’s chest. He can see the pity marks he left on Dave’s shoulder. Dave is smiling in his sleep and Karkat is filled with an aching sort of fondness, even though his entire arm has gone numb. He’d like to lie there a little longer, just kind of soaking up the feeling of tenderness and remembering last night but it is five minutes until the alarm goes off and he has a full bladder, and his entire arm is deadweight. “Dave, Dave wake up,” Karkat says, and tries to shift out from under him.

“…M’awake,” Dave says, not sounding very awake at all. He snuggles against Karkat and nuzzles at his throat. 

Karkat can’t help the breathy little noise he makes or the chirr when Dave scrapes his dull teeth over thick skin that shouldn’t feel nearly as tender and sensitive as it does. It would take some pretty aggressive chewing from teeth like Dave’s for it to feel that way now, and he flushes, remembering that yeah, Dave had been pretty aggressive. There might even be visible pity marks. “Dave, the alarm’s about to go off,” he says, and squirms a little. 

Dave hums in agreement, and kisses him. “Just a little longer,” he says. “Nothing really planned til later, right?” 

Karkat feels his mouth twitch, but tries to keep from smiling as he says in a serious voice, “Dave, we have to talk about--” He doesn’t get much further than that, because Dave puts a hand over his mouth.

“Not now,” Dave says. “Maybe later. After breakfast?” 

Karkat nods and the hand is removed. Dave smirks and leans in for another kiss. Karkat kisses back, but can’t help murmuring, “you killed the circulation in my arm and I need to piss,” in the sexiest voice he can manage. 

Dave snorts, and flops down on top of Karkat’s chest, laughing. “So do I,” he says. “I was hoping to distract you and make a break for it.” 

“Heh. You go first, I need to shake the stinging insects off my arm anyway,” Karkat says. He watches Dave abscond, a little clumsily and swearing about his own stinging insects.

Karkat shakes the feeling back into his arm, and peels off the sopor patch, leaving it crumpled on the table by the bed. He notices his reflection in the mirrored closet door. He definitely has visible pity marks. He restrains himself from touching them. He turns off the alarm clock as soon as it goes off, then he picked up the wastebasket that had served as a bucket the night before and carries it somewhat self-consciously to the ablution block. Dave’s already coming out, and there’s a brief awkward pause--they can see each other’s pity marks. Dave is amused, and Karkat is mostly amused at his own embarrassment-- before they can switch places and Karkat can relieve himself and dispose of the genetic material. 

They get dressed, and Dave orders breakfast. They watch the news and conversation mostly revolves around the talk show last night, and social media. Dave is full of a nervous energy, pleased with himself and a little smug, but also nervous. Karkat feels much the same, though maybe a little more nervous. They eat breakfast, and go cuddle on the couch and don’t actually get around to talking for at least an hour. 

“I don’t actually want to talk,” Karkat admits. “I kind of want to bask.”

“Basking is nice,” Dave says. “Last night was _really_ nice.” He doesn’t leer, but leering is clearly implied in the very slight tilt of his mouth.

“You need to work on your sexy one liners,” Karkat says, smiling at Dave. “That is, you need to create actually sexy one liners.” 

“Not all of us can be popular romance authors,” Dave says in a ragging tone. Then a little more seriously, “and if I tried to say anything all polished like, it’d ruin the mood, right? You’d go all ‘he’s trying to be a good concubine’ and freeze up, even though that was all settled.” 

“Well no, I wouldn’t think that,” Karkat says. “I’d think ‘I fucked up, I fucked up following one simple principle, great job Karkat.’” 

“The principle of not making use of the concubine that didn’t want to be there anyway?” Dave asks. 

Karkat hears the “didn’t want to be,” and there’s a little mental “skip” and replay of the words that feels purely, absolutely red. “Well the principle that involves completely self-determined and full agency consent.” 

“Is that why you bottomed, just to make sure?” The ragging, teasing tone is back. “How many hoops do I have to jump through before I get the official self-determination award? It’s a little engraved brass plaque on a solid redvein base isn’t it.” 

“I bottomed because you topped,” Karkat says, rolling his eyes. “Also, whoever is doing which has nothing to do with their supposed ‘dominance’ in a relationship. Anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.” 

“Heh. I’ve known a lot a idiots then,” Dave says. “But you kind of have been letting me take the lead a lot.” 

“Let’s review the part where I said ‘I bottomed because you topped,’” Karkat says dryly. “Another time there might be some conflict about it, not because of dominance, but because wrestling around and snapping is more pitch, and right now I’m feeling more red.”

“And this conversation is weirdly pale,” Dave says. He doesn’t look very worried about it. Karkat wondered if Dave had talked to someone about it, about aquadrancy. 

“Feeling in every quadrant, and wanting someone in every quadrant is pretty much a thing when you’re aquadrant ,” Karkat says. “Flipping fast between quadrants is a wiggler thing, you’re supposed to settle and I never did.”

“So I might get you up in my grill already charred by pitch flames sometime?” Dave asks with a little smirk. 

“Sometime, I might, when you present a challenge.” 

“Hey, who wins most of our sparring matches?” Dave asks with a not quite mock indignant expression. 

“How do you know I’m not taking the fall to watch you do your victory dance?” Karkat purrs smugly. 

Dave’s mock outrage turns slightly more real. “Oh fuck that, Vantas, we’re on. You, me, the gym, fifteen minutes, sickle and sword, Imma kick your ass and dance on the carcass.” 

Laughing, Karkat heads to his room to change into exercise clothes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently working on a fantasy serial called _The Forest Room_! (So expect a lag in updates for my fan fic projects...)
> 
> You can find it (and find out about it) on my writing journal [Catching Shadows!](http://catchingshadows.dreamwidth.org/)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has liked, commented and bookmarked two for mirth!
> 
> Special side note: I make a refrance to Asuka Kureru's [Blue (For Certain Values of Blue) Romance (Romance Not Included)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1080530/chapters/2171701). Which I love and not just because it was based on my prompt. :D


	15. Chapter 15

Karkat thinks about what Gamzee said about Dave: _“That little brother wants a thing he ain’t never really had, and that feel goes down dark and deep into the fear places.”_ He thinks he has a better feel for what Gamzee meant now. Dave wants a home, someplace to belong, to be part of something. He wants family, a household. He wants to belong somewhere. It was there the entire time, but Karkat hadn’t seen it, hadn’t really let himself see it. 

Karkat’s first hope had been friendship developing at an appropriate time after freeing Dave and setting him up with a sponsor. The hope had turned to an uneasy mixture of compassion and admiration, exasperation and sympathy. And from that point, he had just wanted more, despite the situation created by Gamzee, of not being able to manumit him (or telling him he would be manumitted) in a sweep. 

(The mission itself was going to be a little over a sweep.) 

Dave _returning_ his concupiscent feelings had been too much to hope for. 

(But that hadn’t stopped him from wanting to pay court; something to feel guilty about, maybe.) 

He’s startled from his train of thought by a pillow hitting him in the back of the head. Karkat looks up from the monitor of the computer and levels a glare at Dave, who’s seated on the couch, his husktop in his lap. “Do you mind? I’m working on a speech.” 

“You’ve just been sitting there staring at the open document, for maybe a half hour?” 

“That would be because writing a speech requires thinking about what you’re going to say, not just flippantly talking shit off the top of your head,” Karkat says with exaggerated patience. 

“Yeah well, flippant shit talking is kind of my brand. Could you come here for a second? This is weird.” There’s something strange in the tone of his voice. There uncertainty and discomfort in his voice, and a very poor attempt to seem collected and casual. His entire posture was one of tension and barely concealed anxiety.

“I get the feeling this isn’t some meme you want to show me,” Karkat says, getting up from the computer and crossing over to the couch. He sits down beside Dave, who adjusts his husktop so Karkat can see the screen. 

It’s an open message in Dave’s inbox for his Bubblr. 

Dear Mr. Strider,

I’ve been following your bubblr and social media for the past couple months. I think you and the Emissary are doing a good thing and that your public interactions with him on some of the talk shows are pretty fucking hilarious. I also love your “blatant self-promotion” tag. (You really could be a professional dancer, if you wanted. I have a cousin who had what was technically a late start at ballet, and she’s dancing with Nouveau Helium on Mars.) 

Okay, so, that’s enough buttering up. I wanted to go formal, but yeah, no. If you post this letter publically instead of private, I want to at least try go out funny instead of a stuffed shirt when you knock me down.

I am also a big fan of the work of a movie director/social media artist who coincidentally or maybe not so coincidentally shares your first and last name. (Okay, he’s a “David” not a “Dave” but you both have the last name Strider) And yeah, the universe is full of coincidences and there is a high statistical probability of there being many, many Dave or David Striders out there, but you look a lot like him and even sound a lot like him, though the accent is hella different. So I figured there might be a chance you might be related to him, if the Bro you’ve mentioned occasionally on Bubblr and elsewhere was named Derik Strider.

I should mention that I’m not the only one who’s made this possible connection. It’s being talked about in a few threads on Comuni-K and Sparcnote, and it’s possible someone’s already contacted you about this. So this probably isn’t news to you. Maybe Strider or his kids have seen you and contacted you about it. I don’t know, but I wanted to contact you about it, in case no one has. I figure it might hit the tabloids, maybe? I don’t know.

Sincerely,

bloomingAconite

“I have no idea of what to do about this,” Dave says. “I’ve gotten a few other messages, and some links since then. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well first thing,” Karkat says slowly, gently. “Was your brother named ‘Derik,’?” 

There’s a long pause from Dave. “Yeah.” 

“The second thing is; do you want to do anything about it?” Karkat asks. 

“I don’t know. For all I know, he’s pretty much like Bro, except rich,” Dave says. “I did some research on the guy. It didn’t ping anything?” 

“I’m not monitoring your social media except for what you show me, or what I read over your shoulder,” Karkat says. “So no keyword tagging.” 

“Oh. Right,” Dave says, and laughs a little. He opens a tab, revealing a bio page on an entertainment wiki. “So he’s a writer/director who does a lot of surreal comedies and satires. Most well-known for a series called Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, a ‘comic idiot duo’ that basically parodies various genres, while apparently doing a lot of social commentary.”

“Are they any good?” Karkat ask. 

“I don’t know, haven’t tried anything yet. But look at his pictures,” Dave says. 

“David” is maybe six sweeps older than Dave, and a bit broader across the shoulders. The shape of the jaw is pretty familiar, and the nose. His mouth is set in the same straight line that’s Dave’s default expression in the first picture. In the other three he’s wearing a thin, minimalist smile. He’s wearing shades, and in that he looks almost exactly like Dave. “So the likelihood of you both being the same lineage, coming from the same slurry is pretty good. What do you want to do about it?” 

“What do you think I should do?” Dave asks. 

“I don’t know. Are you having ‘family’ feelings? Do you want to contact him? Are you worried he might contact you? Do you want him to?” He tries not to give anything away in his tone, but Dave gives him a narrow, irritated look. 

“If this turns into a Thing, I am kicking your ass,” Dave says. “This is your only warning master.” 

Karkat thinks about it for a while. “I don’t think it’s a Thing,” he says. “But maybe a human thing that I don’t want to interfere with. So you get to decide.”

“Still sounds like a Thing,” Dave says. “You’ll be better off with your own kind.” This is said in a mocking sing-song voice. 

“You’re being extremely preemptive, you haven’t even talked to the guy yet,” Karkat says, a little amused. “And I haven’t wallowed in enough feelings of guilt and insecurity to go along with that yet. We’re too long distance for you to have gotten the full list of my personal flaws and failings from Terezi.” 

“I have basic skills of observation,” Dave says loftily, and leans back on the couch, a little more relaxed than he’d been previously. “I haven’t decided if I wanted to try contacting him, or even how I’m supposed to answer this letter. For all I know he already knows about me and wants nothing to do with me.”

“Should I feel pity for the theoretical rejection? Or outrage that anyone would not be proud of my rival? I’m a little confused here,” Karkat says. 

“Shouldn’t that be exasperation that a rival is showing weakness?” Dave says, mouth tilting in a smile.

“What part of ‘confused’ are you not understanding?” Karkat asks, returning the smile. “Do some more research, figure out how you want to respond to the letter, whether private or public, and continue on from there.” 

“Yeah, okay, we’ll start from there,” Dave says. 

* * *

Dave has a dayterror the morning after responding to the direct message. It’s a loud one that’s followed by a thump. Karkat rolls off the sleeping platform and heads toward Dave’s block; Dave is just emerging, hair rumpled and bleary eyed. “Do you want some company?” Karkat asks. It is very hard not to sound worried, or to ask him if he’s all right. (It’s also hard to not feel guilty and angry for about a thousand different reasons.)

“Sure,” Dave says. 

“Go sit down, I’ll bring you some frozen dairy confection. Movie, or just sit?”

“Just sit,” Dave says, and heads for the couch in the sitting room of their suite. 

Karkat grabs two pints of confection and a couple spoons. Fudge Brownie for him, Honey Swirl for Dave. He heads to the couch and sits down by Dave, handing him a spoon and his pint. They don’t talk; they busy themselves with removing the lids from their confection and digging in. Dave slowly leans against Karkat’s shoulder as he eats. It feels nice, Dave’s weight against him like this. 

(At the back of his thinkpan there’s a six sweep year old Past Him bubbling with nerves and worry. Is he comforting? Is Dave comforted? Is there something he should say? Is there something he should do? Words came; he could talk endlessly, burn the world down with rants and flood it with arguing. Choosing the exact right words instead of the flood was harder. He can almost hear his moirail, _“don’t need to be saying a word brother, just you being there is enough. Shoosh and let the right words come when they will.”_ ) 

Dave’s spoon sneaks in to take some of Karkat’s ice cream, and a little fencing match of spoons erupts. Dave’s spoon goes flying, landing on floor near the opposite end of the couch. “I’ve defeated you at spoon war at last, Strider,” Karkat says in a dramatic tone.

Dave gives him a small grin. “Bested by my loathly rival. The ignominy of it.” His tone is a dry monotone. “How shall I endure?” 

“I’m magnanimous in victory,” Karkat says. “You can share my spoon.”

Dave snorts, amused. 

They alternately borrow the spoon and occasionally feed each other scoops of ice cream. It’s sweet and ridiculously romantic. “Bet you feel like one of your protagonists now,” Dave says teasingly.

“A Romance Novelist is Presented With a Gladiator by His Idiot Highblood Moirail. Shenanigans in a Number of Quadrants Ensue,” Karkat says. 

“Heh,” Dave says. He’s quiet for a few minutes, and then he says, “I like this. I like you staying up with me when I have a bad day. I don’t think I ever mentioned that.” 

“I was worried I was intruding,” Karkat says a little while later. “But I wanted to check on you, see if you were all right. I’m a busybody like that.”

“A little bit pale for everybody, huh?” Dave asks teasingly. “When I was a kid, when I first arrived at the schoolfeeding facility, they assigned an older student to look out for me. His name was Argosi Tribek. He’d stay up with me in one of the common rooms when I couldn’t sleep. We’d watch movies, or play the Fiduspawn card game. It kind of reminded me of that.”

“I think you mentioned him before,” Karkat says. “You said he was the closest thing you had to a real brother.” 

“Yeah,” Dave says, smiling briefly. “He taught me Alternian, and started me out on drills, one on one until I was ready for actual classes.” 

“Were you able to stay in contact with him?” Karkat asks. 

“Yeah. He’s doing pretty well for himself. First tier gladiator in a small, privately owned chain belonging to Capoti Aragon.” 

“That’s the blueblood who does the mythstoria multimedia installments, isn’t it?” Karkat asks. “I got dragged to one of his exhibitions by Eridan.”

“Yeah. They’re pretty cool,” Dave says. “I got videos of a few of his installments, but I guess you weren’t impressed?” 

“It was a three hour tour through a wicker maze featuring masked dancers posing as lusii and polyphonic chanting in a dead language,” Karkat says. “With Eridan trying to explain what was going on, which sort of defeats the purpose of directly experiencing the installment.”

“The Ambassador’s the kind of guy who explains the plot of the movie while you’re trying to watch it, huh?” Dave asks with a smile. 

“An annoying habit not even his moirail can break him of,” Karkat says. “Blah blah this is the part you should pay particular attention to Kar, historical accuracy blah.” 

Dave laughs. “So, no inviting him to movie nights.”

They talk some more, the conversation wandering idly, until Dave is tired enough to go back to bed. 

[Adric Rane (AR) sent a direct message to EmissaryVantas (EV)!]

AR: Hello Emissary I am a representative of Mr. Strider. It seems your concubine is indicating a degree of relationship with my employer. There are legal repercussions involved with making such claims that you as an alien with no concept of familial relationships may not be aware of 

AR: This is a polite request to cease and desist from making such claim. If such claims continue,legal action may have to be taken.

EV: LET’S SAY THAT I AM DEFINITELY INTIMIDATED BY LEGAL REPERCUSSIONS THAT COULD REACH THROUGH THE SHIELD OF DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY TO DO MYSTERIOUS INTIMIDATING THINGS I CAN’T POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND DUE TO NOT HAVING A CONCEPT OF FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIPS. 

EV: YOU’RE MAKING THE REQUEST OF THE WRONG PERSON AND MAYBE REQUIRE A REMEDIAL COURSE IN ENGLISH.DAVE STRIDER MADE NO CLAIM OF RELATIONSHIP WITH THE DIRECTOR. HE INSTEAD ANSWERED IN THE AFFIRMATIVE THAT WHEN HE WAS A MINOR, HIS LEGAL GUARDIAN’S NAME WAS DERIK STRIDER. HE THEN REMARKS ON THE PHENOTYPICAL SIMILARITIES BETWEEN HIMSELF AND MR. STRIDER AND SAYS THAT HE DOESN’T KNOW VERY MUCH ABOUT HIS BROTHER’S FAMILY AND THAT IT WOULD BE INTERESTING TO FIND OUT. HE CONFIRMED A NAME, HE DID NOT MAKE CLAIMS OR REQUESTS. 

AR: If I am in fact addressing the “owner” of Dave Strider, I’d think, if I were to issue a cease and desist order I’d be addressing the correct person.

EV: THAT WOULD PROBABLY BE THE CASE IN THE ALTERNIAN EMPIRE, BUT THIS IS THE UPT, WHERE MY LEGAL CUSTODY OF DAVE STRIDER IS NONEXISTENT. EVEN IF WE WERE IN THE ALTERNIAN EMPIRE, AS AN EMANCIPTIONIST I WOULD INSTEAD INFORM DAVE STRIDER OF THE CEASE AND DESIST ORDER, AND FIND OUT HOW HE WANTED TO PROCEED FROM THERE.

AR: Your “property” is making false claims of relationship in an obvious attempt at self-aggrandizement, riding on the fame and popularity of an award winning director to self-promote his substandard artistic endeavors.

AR: I am shocked that the Alternian Embassy is allowing this farce to

[Adric Rane /despoof protocol 612!/ anarchicRadical (AR) has been forcibly removed from the keyboard!] 

There was a five minute pause. 

AR: Hello? Is this actually Emissary Vantas, or just a handler using the account? 

AR: I need to know because of reasons.

AR: Reasons where I defenestrate my little brother.

EV:THIS IS ACTUALLY EMISSARY VANTAS. I HANDLE MOST OF MY OWN SOCIAL MEDIA. AM I CORRECT IN GUESSING THAT “ADRIC RANE” IS NOT AN OFFICIAL REPRESENTATIVE OF MR. DAVID STRIDER.

AR: Uh. Not really. He’s twelve. Twelve years. I guess that would be five and a half sweeps? 

AR: He’s my little brother. I am really, really sorry about this. I knew he was arguing a lot on bubblr about your concubine maybe being related but I didn’t think he’d actual try to start a diplomatic incident about it.

EV:DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. IN LIGHT OF HIS AGE, I’M MORE THAN WILLING TO LET HIS CUSTODIAN--FATHER?--HANDLE ANY DISCIPLINARY ACTIONS.

AR: Thank you Emissary. I don’t even know why he’s so bent out of shape. It’s like he thinks he has to protect David’s body of work or something? And that your concubine is some kind of gold digger? Again, I’m really sorry. 

EV: IT'S FINE MR--?

AR: Sorry. My names Dirk Strider. You already met my little brother Hali. David Strider is my dad.

* * *

cardioGraphomaniac (CG) invited JohnEgbert (JE) to memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

cardioGraphomaniac (CG) invited RoseLalonde (RL) to memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

cardioGraphomaniac (CG) invited EridanAmpora (EA) to memo: So That’s a ThingThat Happened

cardioGraphomaniac (CG) invited Nona Egbert (NE) to memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

cardioGraphomaniac (CG) invited terminusGladiates (TG) to memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

cardioGraphomaniac (CG) uploaded file terrifyingthreatsfromwiggler.fil to memo

CG: I’LL JUST PUT THAT ON THE TABLE SO EVERYONE CAN TAKE A LOOK AT IT

CG: QUICK LEGAL QUESTION, WAS DAVE’S RESPONSE TO THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE THAT APPARENTLY INSPIRED THIS KID TO TRY TO SPOOK ME OR SOMETHING IN ANY WAY ACTIONABLE? 

NE: I’m not a lawyer, but it was a pretty neutral statement! It doesn’t confirm or deny anything. And it certainly hasn’t seemed like Dave’s riding on anyone’s coat tails.

TG: because thats what im known for 

TG: tooling around making a name for myself based on shit I didn’t do

TG: not that theyd know my rep 

JE: it’s like that one movie about the guy who was a regional champion at tracing but was just a small fish in a big pond when he tried to go planetary! “‘but I’m the best where I come from.’ ‘yeah where you come from, this TriPoint.’” eheheheh

TG: …

CG: YES JOHN EXCEPT WHERE IT’S NOTHING LIKE THAT AT ALL.

RL: I think John may mean that in a sense to the youngest Mr. Strider, Dave seems like an upstart challenging his father’s crown so to speak. Dave and David do seem to have similar senses of humor as well as a number of similar quirks, despite the differences in the environments they were raised in.

EA: Well they seem to be Ancestor and Descendent s—

EA: Welp I’ve been informed it don’t work like that for humans. Sorry. 

JE: i thought that was just a religious thing like reincarnation

CG: IT IS

EA: Not necessarily. I think there’s definitely more than a bit of truth to the “Ancestor” thing. I got a few ideas how that all works but I’m pretty sure if I tried to find out anything solid Kan would take me apart slow but I’m pretty sure it’s definitely a thing.

EA: Anyway from what I see Dave deliberately covered his ass in his original statement in order wait for acknowledgement or request for evidence of some kind, right?

TG: yeah

EA: Which was a good move. You are much better at this diplomacy thing than Kar. Which I know is damned faint praise, believe me.

There was significan pause.

EA: You’ve really grown as a person Kar, I expected to get banned from the memo for that one. 

CG: I’VE GOT THE BANHAMMER RIGHT HERE AMPORA DON’T THINK I WON’T USE IT. EVENTUALLY.

EA: So you got contact from a minor member of the family, which to my understanding this is a lot like in a Military SF novel where the cadet or ensign or whatever does a dumb hotheaded thing and needs getting his ear twisted by a older wiser non-com. 

NE: Oh, you have that trope too? Though I suppose it would have more romantic connotations?

EA: Yes captain, on both counts. So, it’s pretty much on them for an adult to apologize and make nice. 

RL: That’s more or less accurate, though Mr. Strider’s idea of “nice” is notoriously eccentric.

CG: HE HASN’T COME UP WITH AN OFFICIAL STATEMENT YET. AND THERE HAS BEEN SOME PRETTY RIDICULOUS THEORIZING IN THE TABLOIDS. I MEAN MORE RIDICULOUS THAN SOME OF WHAT I’VE BEEN SEEING.

TG: one of them did an interview with someone who saw half of my fight with pitchfit

TG: i have apparently been secretly experimented on and have psionics

TG: and can be in two places at once

TG: so do we wait for mr strider to say something

TG: send him a note

TG: offer to send him a genescan?

EA: Wait a bit, then contact them. 

EA: See what they do.

CG: IS THAT WHAT YOU MIGHT WANT TO DO DAVE?

TG: maybe

TG: have you gotten anything from them since then

CG: NO. DIRK SAID HE WAS GOING TO TELL HIS FATHER ABOUT HIS LITTLE BROTHER’S SHENANIGANS, BUT IT MIGHT BE A DAY OR TWO BEFORE DAVID STRIDER GOT BACK. HE IS APPARENTLY ATTENDING A CONFERENCE FOR INDIE FILMMAKERS.

TG: kinda think i want to send a note first, then wait.

TG: uh egbert think you can translate and check my spelling when im done

JE: of course dave!

TG: good

CG: SO ARE THERE ANY OTHER ISSUES RELATED TO THIS WE NEED TO ADDRESS? ANY MORE ADVICE OR THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS?

NE: No advice but—good luck Dave, on being able to meet your family. I hope they welcome you, you’re a fine young man!

RL: If you need to talk about families in general, or about meeting your family and what to talk about feel free to contact me. 

JE: same here dave! i promise, not to prank you!

EA: If I have any further thoughts on this I’ll bring em up in private to you and Stri.

CG: …

TG: …

EA: It’s not my fault your first name’s inconveniently one-syllable already. 

TG: thanks captain egbert, john, rose, thank you your highness

cardioGraphomaniac closed memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

JohnEgbert (JE) left memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

RoseLalonde (RL)left memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

EridanAmpora (EA) left memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

Nona Egbert (NE) left memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

terminusGladiates (TG) left memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

cardioGraphomaniac (CG) left memo: So That’s a Thing That Happened

Dear Mr. Strider,

My name is Dave Strider. I was raised by my guardian Derik Strider who may or may not be some relation of yours. From roughly the age of ten to now I have been living in the Alternian Empire as a slave. I was previously a gladiator, the property of Paysun Terhun and I was school fed at West Light Gladiatorial Facility, a prominent schoolfeeding facility in Rakis sector. More recently I am currently the property of Emissary Karkat Vantas, serving as his concubine.

It was brought to my attention that I might be some relation of yours and I noted an interest in meeting you and perhaps confirming this. This caused your son Hali Strider to make certain legal threats based on the assumption that I wanted something from you. This was not the case. My home movies are certainly not an attempt to emulate your movie career or establish a rivalry, but are a hobby I took up because it was entertaining and quickly became a social activity as I met and interacted with quadrant facilitators and entertainers online. 

I would no more attempt to follow around in your shadow as a film maker than you would in my footsteps as a gladiator. 

If it does turn out we are related, I look forward to making your acquaintance. My guardian barely told me anything about my family when I was a child, and I very much feel the lack. You may contact me directly via Kingfisher’s communications directory, my webmail or by direct message via my bubblr. The Emissary is a very busy man and can’t be expected to handle my communications for me.

Sincerely, 

Dave Strider

[cd: 234-2934 wm: terminusgladiates@kingfishermail.upt bubblr: terminusgladiates.bubblr.com]

(translator: John Egbert)


	16. Chapter 16

Dave is contacted directly by David Strider, instead of by some third party after about a week. (Dave spends most of the time second-guessing himself and ranting.) The contact proceeds from email, and then moves to video chats. Karkat doesn’t know all the details, and he doesn’t pry. Dave shares some of what he’s talking about with his relative, but not very much. Karkat respects his privacy and doesn’t pry, though he’s extremely curious. What he does know is that the first conversations were tentatively successful, and that David Strider has invited Dave to visit. “It’s just a few days,” Dave says when he brings it up over dinner. “I’d be staying at his New York penthouse.”

“Are you telling me, or asking permission?” Karkat asks, a little teasingly. 

Dave huffs. “I don’t want you to worry,” he says. 

“I’m not worried,” Karkat says. “Well, for values of worry,” he admits after a beat. 

“Values of worry, huh?” Dave asks. 

“Mostly security concerns,” Karkat says. “And _popsarrocksi_ ruining the visit for you.” 

_“Papparazi,”_ Dave corrects with a slight smile. The smile is fairly brief though. “Not worried I might want to stay?” 

Karkat pauses for a moment, thinking about what to say. Finally he settles on, “long distance relationships are a thing.” Another pause. “If you wanted to have one, that is.” (It’s something he’s prepared for. Something he’s thought about. Dave wanting to stay, Dave wanting to end the relationship.) 

“That would potentially be a really long distance relationship,” Dave says with an unreadable expression. 

“There have been relationships that were, given the transporations methods available at the time much longer. During the days of early space exploration, astrophysicutter Corrak Splint and explorquista Melbus Coyote were said to have had a very fulfilling kismesis despite only meeting in person once, and communicating only by teleson thereafter. There’s an old old legend about a sea nomad and a fisherwoman who were moirails. They met only three times, and the third time the fisherwoman was a ghost.” Karkat shrugs. “In less storied terms, there’s me and Gamzee.” 

“You’d be okay with that?” Dave asks. 

“It would be the only thing that would make me go on regular book tours,” Karkat says. “Do you want to have one?” 

“No. I think I like having an up close and personal relationship,” Dave says, and wiggles his eyebrows. 

Karkat considers this for a moment. “Your lines are still terrible.”

“You love my lines,” Dave says.

“That doesn’t stop them from being terrible,” Karkat says with a smile. “It just proves I have bad taste.” 

“What if I wanted to stay; and I wanted you to stay with me?” Dave asks tentatively. 

He honestly hadn’t considered that possibility. It had just been stay or go long distance relationship or no relationship. “I think I might like that. It’d be a challenge, and Feferi would probably make me work for the Embassy. Which would mean working for Ampora.” Karkat rolls his eyes. 

“You like hanging out with him,” Dave points out. 

“Yeah but that’s hanging out. Working for him is a completely different cooking implement full of piscine lifeforms,” Karkat says. Then, seeing Dave’s slight frown of disappointment he explains, “I’d have to demand hazard pay, and bi-sweeply contract negotiations.” 

Dave snorts with amusement. “Yeah okay, I can see that.” He’s quiet for a moment, poking at the food on his plate. “I’m kind of nervous about this,” he says.

“It’ll be fine,” Karkat says. “And if it isn’t fine, you can come--” he almost said “home,” there. Fuck. “You can come back to the ship early.”

Dave gives him a look, but doesn’t call him on it. “I know,” he says and smiles. The conversation turns to other subjects. 

There’s a lot of planning and packing, and Dave gets on a plane for New York the next day. It is damned quiet in the suite without Dave. The lack of his presence as unnerving as his actual presence had been when he’d first arrived. Karkat turns on one of his playlists a little louder than usual and works on his correspondence and progress reports.

One of the emails is from Jake English’s cousin, Jade Harley. Karkat had been in continuous communication with her and English for months now. Jade had responded to a number of his think pieces, and occasionally commented on Dave’s social media endeavors. The cousins had introduced him to a number of activists and vouched for him to various organizations doing outreach for the various repatriate communities. The email contained an invitation to attend one of her lectures in Boston a few days from now followed by a dinner in which would be (“100% free of reverence, veneration or the phrase ‘Second Signless!’”). 

He sends back a response: SCHEDULING TIME TO BE THERE SHOULDN’T BE A PROBLEM. THE OFFER TO FEED ME JUST CLINCHED IT.

Dave sends you a text when he arrives in New York. 

TG: so i was met at the airport by mr strider that is uncle david and cousin dirk they had a huge sign saying welcome to the big apple

TG: with a big apple drawn on it of course and in parentheses apples do not actually come from new york city

TG: then further much smaller parentheses explaining the etymology of big apple

And a little later.

TG: uncle davids penthive apartment is bigger than your penthive apartment and they have a swimming pool

CG: THERE’S A SWIMMING POOL IN THE GYM

TG: their swimming pool is private and on the deck.

CG: YOU HAVE NEVER USED THE POOL IN THE GYM

TG: private

TG: pool

TG: heated private pool

TG: and theres also a smaller hot water jet pool

CG: I STAND CORRECTED

TG: damn straight.

And later still:

TG: dirks an okay kid practices swordkind and so does uncle david and cousin hal

TG: they seem pretty good which is in contrast to memories of my “bro,” who is apparently actually my bio dad

TG: at least as near as we can figure

TG: we actually meaning my uncle david who told me some family history stuff that is not in the online bios

TG: i have no idea about my bio mom

CG: DO YOU THINK YOU MIGHT WANT TO TRY FINDING OUT?

TG: i dunno maybe

TG: the greater mystery is why the strider brand involves swordkind and why bro was the only one who kind of sucked at it

* * *

Dave sends messages and pictures over the next few days. He and his relatives visit museums, attend plays, visit expensive restaurants. There are a few encounters with paparazzi, but David Strider appears to be skilled at escaping notice. Dave sends Karkat a few short videos of David Strider and his sons sparring, and videos of Dave sparring with his relatives. 

(The constant interactions from Dave makes Karkat feel warm and a little flustered. He had wanted to give Dave time alone with his family. He had told himself to be ready for days of radio silence. He hadn’t expected the opposite, somehow. Dave was _sharing_ his experiences with Karkat, the way a lover might have introduced him to a lusus, or their hatefriends and quadrantmates.)

There’s a flurry of articles and commentary from various journalists and activitists about the visit. The main debate seemed to be whether or not Dave being “allowed” to visit his relatives was some kind of publicity stunt. What purpose such a publicity stunt would serve generally wasn’t clearly stated. Karkat spent a lot of time arguing in the comments and trying to redirect attention away from Dave’s visit. (“I realize mobbing celebrities is second nature, and celebrities don’t generally have much in the way of privacy, but consider the possibility that the celebrity in question might want to have time with his family.”)

Other questions and commentary that came up usually involved whether Karkat was going to free Dave. Those were more difficult to respond to. There was very little he could say about his intentions that wouldn’t go against his agreement with Gamzee to not free Dave until the end of the sweep. (And to not _tell_ Dave he’d be freed at the end of the sweep.) Karkat’s usual responses noted that Dave was still putting his life together after having his previous career taken from him, and that Karkat was looking forward to Dave’s future autonomy. Some reporters more dogged than others would further suggest that he could leave Dave in Terran space. (“That would be entirely up to him.Given that he has access to contacts and connections that would be able to help him get started, would feel much better about leaving him in the UPT.”) From there he’d segue into speeches about improvements to the services provided repatriates. 

[thaliasGoliard (TG) is messaging cardioGraphomaniac (CG)]

TG: hello emissary vantas

TG: let me extend my apologies for the actions of my kid

TG: the kid will also be sending an apology

TG: along with a two thousand word essay on why attempting to cause diplomatic incidents is bad and wrong.

CG: HELLO MR STRIDER. I DOUBT IT WOULD HAVE GONE FAR ENOUGH TO BE AN DIPLOMATIC INCIDENT

CG: MR DIRK STRIDER SEEMED TO HAVE HIS BROTHER WELL IN HAND

TG: yeah dirks a good kid and still a few steps ahead of hal in programming thank god

TG: but apologizing for my kid is not the entire reason for this contact.

CG: WHICH IS WHY YOU’RE CONTACTING ME VIA MY PRIVATE HANDLE

TG: yea dave gave it to me

TG: said if I wanted to know about you I should ask you myself.

CG: …

CG: I’M WILLING TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS YOU MIGHT HAVE. 

CG: IF YOU’LL TELL ME IN WHAT SITUATION LED TO HIM TELLING YOU THAT.

There was a pause.

TG: well lets say that my understandable concern for the son of my estranged asshole older brother led to the expression of sincere emotions like something from a family drama featuring extremely dysfunctional parent-child relationships and attacks of invisible pachyderms and armies of skeletons in all of the closets.

TG: the skeleton invasion ran right over the chaos left by the invisible pachyderms. nothing but rubble for miles around in the eerie silence left by the natural disaster the traumatized survivors crawl out of the ruins to stare with blinking eyes at the rising sun the rays shedding a benediction of new hope for the ragged refugees of the disaster as the relief vans come up the road with soup kitchens tents and first responders 

TG: all welp now we have to rebuild and make sure everyone has a place to sleep and food to eat and all that jazz.

TG: huh ive never done a disaster film ill have to study up on the genre but i think i can mostly play it straight then do something completely ridiculous well more ridiculous than the actual genre if some of the move clips and critiques ive seen are any indication

CG: YOU ARE DEFINITELY RELATED TO DAVE

CG: SO TO TRANSLATE YOU HAD AN ARGUMENT WITH DAVE AND THINGS GOT SAID BUT WHATEVER HAPPENED WASN’T BAD ENOUGH TO MAKE DAVE COME BACK EARLY.

CG: UNLESS THE ARGUMENT JUST HAPPENED AND HE’S ON HIS WAY.

TG: no it was last night

TG: and yes there was an argument

TG: i think it might have been a good thing actually

TG: shit definitely needed to be said.

CG: SO YOU AND DAVE HAVE TALKED OUT WHATEVER NEEDED TALKING OUT?

TG: yeah i guess so

TG: and now i need to talk to you because goddamn do i have questions

* * *

So, they talk. Mr. Strider asks questions about Gamzee, about the events that led up to Gamzee buying Dave. Karkat tells him everything he can. (He makes it clear that Gamzee is basically terrible, but usually means well.) Karkat talks about the first few weeks of Dave living with him. He answers questions about the development of their relationship, about being an Emancipationist (and about the complications of being an Emancipationist with the Grand Highblood for a moirail). 

TG: terrifying clownpriests playing matchmaker sounds just as terrifying from you as it does from dave jr

CG: AS WELL IT SHOULD. I WAS HORRIFIED.

TG: but you couldnt exactly give him back, no receipts or anything

CG: MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS MANUMITTING DAVE. DAVE NIXED THE IDEA DUE TO A ERRONEOUS BELIEF ABOUT UPT CRIMINAL LAW. ALSO HE DIDN’T KNOW HE HAD LIVING RELATIONS, AND THE EMPIRE WAS MOSTLY WHAT HE KNEW.

CG: NO, THAT WAS MY SECOND THOUGHT. THE ACTUAL FIRST THOUGHT WAS I WANTED TO MEET WHOEVER IT WAS MY IDIOT MOIRAIL THOUGHT WAS MY SERENDIPITY AND HIS HORRIBLE CLOWNGODS BLESSED MATCH.

TG: its also kind of scary that you casually refer to your clownpriest boyfriend as an idiot.

CG: I AM RICH IN EXPERIENCE WHERE MY CLOWN BOYFRIEND IS CONCERNED. MOST OF THAT EXPERIENCE IS THE TERRIBLE KNOWLEDGE THAT MY MOIRAIL IS IN HIS OWN WAY CLEVER AND WISE, A GOOD OFFICER AND THE CLUB OF THE EMPRESS.

CG: THIS SAME MOIRAIL NEVER REALIZED THAT HE COULD SHORTEN HIS ONE WHEELED DEVICE SO HE COULD ACTUALLY WORK THE PEDALS. HE FORGETS WHERE HE PUTS THINGS TO THE POINT THAT FOR A WHILE HE WAS HALF CONVINCED HIS HIVE WAS INFESTED BY FAIRIES. NO GAMZEE, FAIRIES ARE BULLSHIT THE ACTUAL PROBLEM IS THAT YOUR THINK PAN IS MORE HOLES THAN ACTUAL PAN.

CG: I’M ALLOWED TO CALL HIM AN IDIOT. ANYONE ELSE CALLING HIM AN IDIOT IS GOING REGRET IT.

TG: because of what hell do or what youll do?

CG: BOTH.

TG: heh

TG: so you were going to manumit him?

CG: I’M STILL GOING TO, BUT NOT YET. FOR VARIOUS REASONS I CAN’T TALK ABOUT BUT THE PRIMARY REASON IS I WANT HIM TO ALREADY BE SET UP WITH HOUSING AND A JOB. I PLAN ON SPONSORING HIM, OR GETTING HIM IMPERIAL SPONSORSHIP

TG: which does what?

CG: MAKE IT EASIER FOR HIM TO SUPPORT HIMSELF AND GET DECENT HOUSING, SCHOOLFEEDING WHERE NECESSARY, THAT KIND OF THING UNDER THE CURRENT LAWS.

CG:IMPERIAL SPONSORSHIP IS THE SAME THING, EXCEPT IT COMES WITH A GUARANTEED JOB AND GIVES YOU NEAR-CITIZENSHIP STATUS. 

TG: sounds like a pretty sweet deal

TG: but now you know he has family, so what now?

CG: IF HE WANTS TO STAY AND ACCEPT YOUR ASSISTANCE I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT. 

CG: THAT IS WHAT YOU’RE OFFERING RIGHT?

TG: i got the money and the space i could afford supporting him, getting him into college if he wanted.

CG: DOES HE WANT?

TG: that was what the argument was about, mostly.

CG: TELL ME YOU DIDN’T OFFER TO BUY HIM FROM ME.

TG: that might have might have been an option i put on the table.

TG: i really don’t get why that would be an inherently bad thing unless it has to do with the grand highblood which dave jr seemed to be implying.

CG: YES IT HAS TO DO WITH THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD AKA MY IDIOT MOIRAIL. I HAVE DAVE’S PAPERS AND I’M LISTED AS THE OWNER. HOWEVER MY HIGHBLOOD MOIRAIL GAVE HIM TO ME AS A GIFT WHICH MEANS I CAN’T SELL HIM WITHOUT PERMISSION.

CG: THERE’S ALSO SOME CULTURAL REASONS. I DON’T KNOW EXACTLY HOW IT’S DONE AMONG ATHLETES LIKE DAVE BUT YOU OWE THE PERSON WHO BUYS YOU JUST TO FREE YOU. IT’S USUALLY A GIFT OR A FAVOR OF SOME KIND BUT THERE’S A LOT OF EMOTIONAL WEIGHT BEHIND IT. 

TG:...

TG: did i accidentally offer to put a ring on it to my nephew?

CG: IS THAT THE HUMAN QUADRANT ALLIANCE-CELEBRATION THING?

TG: yeah pretty much

CG: THEN I THINK YES YOU OFFERED TO PUT A RING ON “IT”

TG: christ so major faux pas in addition to the it’s illegal to suborn or conspire to suborn thing

TG: which is what dave jr was mostly harping about

CG: YEAH WELL WE’RE NOT IN IMPERIAL SPACE SO. SUBORN AWAY I GUESS.

TG: except not because nephew doesnt want to be suborned.

Karkat asks his own questions. He want’s to know more about Dave’s uncle. He wants to know more about the family Dave discovered. David talks about his movies, about his kids. Dirk was apparently an “extremely unexpected birthday present.” Hal was a little more planned out. (“He decided on an early arrival.”) He talks about his “Lesbian Life Partner,” the mother of Dirk and Hal. (“She’s an author too, interestingly enough. Dark fantasy and horror, mostly.”) 

Before he quite realizes it, David talks him into making arrangements for going out to dinner with the family. (He agrees before second thoughts can convince him to back out of what is sure to be a supremely awkward experience.) Plans are made to meet in Boston, a night after he plans on attending Jade Harley’s lecture. 


	17. Chapter 17

Harley’s “lecture” is part of an academic conference. Karkat finds himself adrift in an audience full of historians, xeno-sociologists, theologians, ethicists troll, human and other arguing with each other about syncretism and culture. Harley’s paper is an analysis of recent changes in the Church of the Mirthful Messiahs, and what those changes might mean for continuing relations between the Empire and the UPT. 

(Karkat finds himself shipping a few of the speakers.) 

There’s a round of questions after Harley finishes her lecture. A few of the questions were of the “but you’re a Signlessist, why are you talking about the Church of the Mirthful Messiah,” variety. Harley points out that it’s the Subjuggalators who put down rebellions and do a lot of the border defense. Changes in policy and Church theology were more relevant to relations along the border. “Also, if I only wrote about the Signlessists I’d be wasting my degrees in comparative theology.” This was followed by questions about her knowledge of and interactions with the Church of the Mirthful Messiahs. “The same as any other heretic I guess? Except now with less death!” 

(This starts a fast exchange of question/answers/comments between Harley and a tall, broad-shouldered highblood woman in Mirthful facepaint. It becomes clear they know each other, and have argued before from the ease of their exchange and the humor in both their voices.) 

They meet after the conference, Harley’s DogDad at her side. The lusus’ back comes up to Harley’s waist. Beck is wearing a black vest with the words Sapient Companion Animal printed on it in white. In slightly smaller print: I am very protective of my person please give us space! “Ms. Harley,” Karkat says, and they clasp hands in greeting. Beck decides he wants to say hello as well, bumping his head up under their hands, demanding a pet. “Hello yourself, Beck,” Karkat says, and skritches behind one of the lusus’ ears. The lusus leans in, tail wagging. His suit was going to be liberally sprinkled with dog hair in no time flat. 

“Dad is the best icebreaker,” Harley says with a grin. 

“Was there ice? I didn’t see any ice,” Karkat says, returning the smile. “We’ve spoken over video and argued in comment threads.” 

“Frost leaves, maybe,” Harley says in Alternian. “You’re a decorated war hero and everything. I’m just an academic with activist leanings when you get down to it.” 

“I thought this was going to be one hundred percent free of veneration,” Karkat mock-complains.

Jade snickers. “I’m sorry; you’re more impressive in person than you are when you’re being wrong on the internet.” She slips an arm in the crook of his elbow. “So I picked a medium fancy restaurant, and it’s my treat.” 

They talk during the cab trip to the restaurant and they don’t really stop talking except to pause to pay the cab and be seated at the restaurant, and order. The food according to Jade was a combination of southern and east-Asian cuisines, and very spicy. No one was very alarmed by the presence the presence of a large white barkbeast. “I’ve been here a few times before, and I never really have a problem with going places as long as Beck’s wearing his vest,” Jade says in response to Karkat’s questions about the difficulties of going places with a lusus. “When I was a kid it was harder. There are laws allowing assistance animals into businesses, but there was nothing saying a ‘sapient companion animal’ could. It took a lot of activism and a few ‘diplomatic incidents’ I’m pretty sure Ambassador Ampora staged, but the laws were extended to include lusii.” 

“Diplomatic incidents?” Karkat asks, amused. 

Jade nods. “A few of them! Usually someone from the embassy, or a troll businessperson wanting to go somewhere they wouldn’t be able to go because ‘pets’ weren’t allowed.” She shows Karkat a list of articles and pictures. 

An article title catches Karkat’s eye. “‘Big Bad Wolf Howls Roof of Supermarket Down’?” Karkat asks. The picture is of a much younger Jade, hugging Beck’s neck. The caption read: Good Dog, Best Friend Ms. Harley’s adoptive lusus Beck didn’t appreciate being left outside and wasn’t shy about letting the manager--and the entire store--know about it. 

“I maybe got involved on that too?” Jade says with a grin. “I think it was mostly that Grandma wanted Beck to carry the groceries though. The manager called the cops. It was very dumb. The cops thought it was hilarious, Beck tried to shake everyone’s hand.” Beck whuffed and looked up at the sound of his name, grinning and tail waving in a slow tick tock. “Yes, you’re very charming Dad,” she said. Beck whuffed again. 

The conversation wandered to current events. Jade is as interested in what he’s doing as much as she’s interested in what Dave’s doing. Karkat makes a few half-hearted complaints about nosiness, but answers her questions. Karkat talks about Dave visiting his family. “I’m meeting Dave’s relatives for dinner tomorrow,” Karkat says. 

“Are you nervous?” Jade asks with a wicked grin. 

“I’m meeting people Dave considers to be pretty good with a sword, and who definitely disapprove of Dave’s legal status in the Alternian Empire, of course I’m nervous,” Karkat says, not quite joking. 

Jade snickers. “I mean ‘oh god quadrant corners’ nervous,” she says. “I mean, ‘what if the lusus hates me?’ nervous.”

“Well for the latter, I guess I can get roe cubes,” Karkat says drily. “Maybe I’ll survive the evening, stranger things have happened.” 

“Do you really think they’re going to fight you?” Jade asks. “I’m sure Dave will protect you!” 

“Heh. I think he would too,” Karkat says. “The problem is that I’d rather meet them in a situation that wasn’t as…complicated as the one I’m going into. Complicated relationships are more interesting on the page than in real life.”

“You want some advice?” Jade asks, then hurriedly, “I don’t mean advice advice, just general tips on how to meet the family?” 

“Advice advice,” Karkat says, teasingly. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind some absolutely not pale advice from a hate-friend.” 

Jade throws her napkin at him. They talk some more, and Jade pays for the bill. Karkat insists on paying for the cab home. They head out into the night and--

\--Karkat isn’t sure what warns him. There’s a flash and flicker of movement and Karkat is knocking Jade to the ground. Something cracks against the door where they’d been standing. Beck snarls and there’s a flash of pain between Karkat’s ribs. Breathing hurts and things go watery and strange. He hears Beck howling, and thinks he hears a Mirthful battlecry: a surprisingly shrill giggle-scream--

\--screamingdesperatecan’tbreathetrappedno--

_Chucklevoodoos,_ Karkat thinks, almost coherent, and then he falls a long way down, and keeps falling. 

* * *

Coming back up is slow. Everything is a blur, soft focus. The walls of a hospital room appearify, white-beige, and no window. He can hear footsteps, voices outside the room but it feels like he’s under water. There’s an entertainment screen that’s showing some wiggler progam that he has just enough wit to feel vaguely indignant about. There’s a chair by his bed, and curled up in it in a way that can’t be comfortable, there’s…

“Dave,” Karkat says. His voice rasps and he can’t seem to do more than a creaky little whisper. 

Dave stirs, seems a little confused himself, then almost falls out of the chair as he scrambles upright. “Karkat,” he says, voice too loud, and also painfully relieved. “Hey, you’re awake,” Dave says in a more even tone, obviously trying to cover for almost falling over. He moves in closer, caresses Karkat’s cheek. “You’ll do anything to avoid meeting the family, huh?” Dave smiles a slight, shaky little smile that makes Karkat’s bloodpusher stutter with entirely flushed pity. 

“That’s exactly what happened,” Karkat says, smiling in return. “Water?” 

“Why settle for water, when you can have AJ?” Dave says, and comes up with a sealed bottle of apple juice. He raises the bed a bit, opens the bottle. With some fumbling and some assistance from Dave, he’s able to take a sip. 

“Is Jade all right?” Karkat asks after taking another sip. 

“You took most of the bullets,” Dave says. “One went right through you, and got her in the gut, but she’s otherwise okay. Apparently has a subjugglator girlfriend now, but fine.”

Karkat makes a confused noise, not quite able to wrap his mind around it, or form words to question it.

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” Dave says. “I literally don’t know anything at all, except for what’s on the news, since I’m not actually next of kin or a quadrant and the only reason they let me stay in here was because they thought I was going to fly off the handle otherwise. Want me to call the doctorturer?”

Karkat hums at that, then gathers together enough of his scattered brain cells to reach up, and pap Dave on the cheek. “No flying off handles,” he says, and frowns. 

Dave’s laugh has a decidedly watery sound to it. He presses Karkat’s hand to his cheek, then kisses Karkat’s palm. “Okay, sure. I can do that.” 

“News, then doctorturer,” Karkat says. 

“You sure you’re going to be able to be awake for it?” Dave asks. Now it sounds like he's trying not to laugh.

Karkat hums and frowns at Dave. He glances meaningfully at the screen, and Dave laughs and comes up with the remote. It takes some searching before they find a news segment handling the assassination attempt. The news reports that the snipers had been caught, and that his moirail was on his way. He tries to tell Dave to get a hold of Eridan, but he’s asleep before he can put the words together. 

He’s a little more clearheaded when he wakes up. He learns from the nurse and the doctor that he’d been shot several times in the back and the gut. His aeration sponge had been hit; two had gone through his digestion tubes, and one lodged itself in his hip. He’d lost a lot of blood, and there had apparently been some problem finding him a donor. (Absolutely no surprise there.) A subjugglator named Leonis Myrmic apprehended one of the shooters; police caught the second five days later. Karkat had been out of it for more than a week. It seems that Jade had been targeted by a racist group with an intense hatred for the repatriated. Aside from informing the police, Jade hadn’t done anything about it.

Awake, things become extremely busy. He has to talk to the police investigators, and then Ampora. Eridan is shaky, angry and swearing to cull the (human) security detail, who had missed the shooters. “I’m pretty sure culling is illegal here,” Karkat says. 

“I’ll have ‘em extradited,” Eridan says immediately. “That is, if Makara doesn’t go after ‘em first.” 

“Gamzee isn’t going to cause a diplomatic incident,” Karkat says.

“He flippin’ _is_ a diplomatic incident!” Eridan shouts. 

Eridan’s moirail, expression serene, reaches up and quite brazenly paps him. Eridan’s fins flutter win embarrassment, but he settles. “I’m sure the Emissary knows his moirail’s mind better than you, love,” Gernuk says affectionately. 

“What mind,” Eridan and Karkat accidentally chorus. 

“Seriously, Eridan,” Karkat says, half a beat after that. “He’s grown up a lot.” 

“To be the whimsical head of a cult of murderpranking loonies,” Eridan mutters. “All right, it’d be a bad idea to keep him away, anyway.” He glares. “But if he culls me because of this outrageous fuckery, I’m haunting your ass, is that understood?” 

“He won’t cull you,” Karkat says, a little exasperated.

Later he hears from Jade, and strangely enough, Leonis Myrmic. They come to visit from across the hall, Jade in a four wheeled device being navigated by Leonis It’s a little strange seeing a Subjugglator pushing a four wheeled device, let alone seeing one with diamonds in their eyes for a human academic- activist. “So, make up dinner, to make up for being my meat shield?” Jade asks after talking around the situation. 

“Well, for not telling me you’ve been getting threats,” Karkat says. “Or might be in danger of getting shot by crazy human ‘racists’.” 

Jade waves her hands in an exasperated gesture. “Crazy racists are a thing that happens!” she says. “I can’t cave and let them take over my life!” 

“You woulda lost yours, sugargrub, if the Emissary hadn’t played ‘meatshield,’” Leonis says in gentle reproof. 

“You were there too, Lee!” Jade says. She tries to twist around to look at Leonis, and then freezes with a distressed sound, arms cradling her abdomen. “Owww.” 

Leonis immediately squats down at the side of the chair. “So I was. You need me to get a doctorturer?” She asks. 

“No, just sore,” Jade says. “Stop fussing at me, you’re worse than Dad!” 

“Knew there was a reason I liked that damn dog,” Leonis says. She rises to her feet, and smiles, at Jade, and then oddly at Karkat. “With all the arguing we do, I never expected to come up pale as bone for Jade. I guess he was let to see a punchline when the Mirthful said, ‘Bitch, someday you’re gonna fall in some quadrant with a heretic and Imma gonna have the biggest damn laugh about it.’”

“I’m just glad you didn’t get shot yourself, though honestly, who wears bioarmor to an academic conference!” Jade says, patting Leonis on the arm with a fond little grin. The affection definitely appeared to go both ways. 

“Ninjettes who are ready to throw down for the faith,” Leonis says immediately. “And a good thing too.” Leonis gives a thankfully unrhymed account of directing someone to call 911, then hunting one of the shooters down. (“One motherfucker was already out of range, but I set loose a most holy terror and got the other.”) 

The conversation wanders for a bit, and then Jade says. “Okay Lee, you actually have to tell him. ‘Cause he definitely doesn’t remember you!” 

“Well damn,” the Subjugglator says, sounding chagrinned. 

“Tell me what?” Karkat asks with a frown. 

Leonis sighs. “So, a long time ago, I was all being schoolfed on the old Highblood’s flagship. And I was pissed off that the Highblood surrendered to some heretic who was in a moirallegiance with a jokeblood mutant. And I caused shit with the little mutant motherfucker and he near put me through a wall and I gotta strip tore off me afterward, not for losing, but for fucking around like that at all on account quadrants are motherfucking sacred serendipity, even if it’s a fucking joke, especially if it’s a fucking joke. Then I got sent on a most mirthful and holy quest to learn shit and talk about what I learned and made friends with another jokeblood heretic who followed the Signless Cult. And I meet you again and I think, aight, Imma make up for being a nasty little bitch, and I’m sure you’ll know me on sight and fucking hate me but my sister goes, ‘I bet you it’s all in the past for him and he doesn’t remember,’ and now I owe her dinner and a movie, my treat.”

“Oh, you can afford it!” Jade says. 

Karkat laughs a little. “Well, I remember a lot of fights, but not necessarily with who.” He tries to remember the face, and the makeup but can’t quite. The clue is the little gap between her front teeth and the arched nose. And yeah, he remembers her now. He isn’t angry, and he doesn’t hate her. He remembers putting up with her bullshit and the fight and someone coming in to mediate. “You changed your face a bit,” Karkat says, meaning her ‘holy face’ or the paint she was wearing. “You thickened the eyebrows and added opposing crescents under your eyes.” 

“The face I was using when I was a kid was pretty basic,” Leonis says. “I changed it up while I was wandering around like the do-gooder mendicant from an adventure serial except all scholarly.” 

“Well, I’m not sorry you got in trouble, but I don’t hate you,” Karkat says. “And even though I was pretty pissed at you then, it was a pretty long time ago. I’m glad you were on hand to provide back up and help, so we’re even, I guess.” 

“Good, now shake and let bygones be bygones!” Jade says. 

She is very insistent that they shake on it, so they do. 

* * *

Karkat gets an invitation from David Strider’s “lesbian life partner” Mona Lalonde to recuperate at her townhouse in Boston. Karkat accepts after the usual security checks. A bright red limousine picks him and Dave up the next day. It has a refrigerator stocked with bottles of apple juice, fish rolled up in grain and seaweed packages, flat bread and bean paste, little salads in plastic containers. Dave is happy to fill fill him in about the townhouse and Mona Lalonde, who it turns out is no relation to Rose Lalonde. “She’s pretty cool. Snarky sense of humor, really smart. Her books are these dense, bizarre fuckers. You will have the strangest boners.”

“So you like her writing? At least I’m assuming that, since you’re giving it your equivalent of a rave review.” 

“It’s weird romantic body horror,” Dave says. 

“Tell me it’s not helming kink,” Karkat replies immediately.

“Dude that would practically be cultural appropriation or something,” Dave says with a little smirk. 

“Uh huh, right. Of course that would be why I’d find helming kink written by a human uncomfortable,” Karkat says and makes a face at Dave. 

Dave laughs. “No, it’s like bizarre transformations and cosmic forces beyond human understanding wanting to do the nasty with mere mortals who they love beyond death and stuff like that.” 

Dave talks about books and a little bit about “Aunt” Mona and where Karkat will be sleeping. Dave leans in against Karkat while they talk, his arm around Karkat’s shoulders. The gesture makes Karkat feel warm, and even a little flustered. 

Once they reach the townhouse Dave asks the driver to wait and helps Karkat out of the car and up into the house. Dave guides him to an adjustable seating apparatus, and Karkat sits down. He can hear what’s probably computer game noises coming from upstairs. “Aunt Mona had to pick up Mr. Hassenpfeffer, Uncle David and Dirk probably went along,” Dave says. 

“Mr. Hassenpfeffer?” Karkat asks. 

“Aunt Mona’s rabbit. Well she says it’s her girlfriend’s rabbit, she just watches him while the girlfriend is on business trips. She getting him back from the vet he’s got the sniffles or something. She also has four cats who may or may not come out,” Dave says. “I’m gonna go pick up your stuff from the ship. Are you going to be okay here?” He hands over the remote control for the entertainment unit. 

“I think so,” Karkat says. 

“Cool,” Dave says. He shouts upstairs, “Hal, if Karkat needs anything--”

“I’ll say that’s your job!” Someone--most likely Hal--shouts downstairs. 

“Hal,” Dave says in a warning, “I know where you sleep,” voice. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll help,” Hal says, sounding bored. 

“Thanks Hal,” Dave says and heads out. 

The entertainment block is a wide open space with an open kitchen and a dining block table right in front of an island countertop off to the left. Directing in front of him is the stairway upstairs, which has a kind of balcony on the top floor. To the right is the doorway, from where he’s sitting. Under the balcony are two doors. 

The walls are white and very light blue, the furniture dark brown leather couches and chairs. There is a very large window with vertical blinds just behind him, with a sliding door that makes Karkat extremely uncomfortable. (He should have thought to ask if the glass was bullet proof.) There’s paintings and photographs on the walls. The floors are wood, with patterned carpets. There are also little towers and walkways along the walls, most likely for the cats Dave mentioned. 

Karkat flips between channels, and wishes he had his husktop. 

It’s not very long before the computer music turns off and Hal makes an appearance. The wiggler is about six sweeps old with blond hair and freckles. His eyes are behind red-tinted shades that look a great deal like Terezi’s. “Hello Hal,” Karkat says. “Or would you prefer Mr. Rane?” 

Karkat has the distinct impression the wiggler just rolled his eyes. “I came down to get a sandwich, want something?” 

“A carbonated beverage would be fine,” Karkat says. 

Hal rattles around in the kitchen area, making himself something to eat. He comes back with a plate full of sandwiches cut into small triangles and a couple of carbonated beverage cans, one of which he hands to Karkat. Karkat watches as Hal drifts over to a couch and sits down. “So, uh, you got my apology letter right?” A beat. “Emissary Vantas.”

“Yeah, I did.” Karkat opents the beverage can and takes a drink. 

“Cool,” Hal says and opens his own. He eats one of his sandwiches before saying, “I’m also sorry I tried to get Dave in trouble.” 

“Did you apologize to Dave?” Karkat asks. 

“Yeah,” Hal says. 

Karkat asks tentative questions about the game Hal was playing, and what he did for school feeding. Hal mentioned that he’d read a couple of Karkat’s books fairly recently. Hal turns out to have strong opinions about _A Tragic Moirallegiance Between a Lowblood and a Highblood In Which the Essential Tragedy Has Nothing to Do With Comparative Lifespans But Instead Because the Highblood Moirail Engages In An Act of Self Sacrifice And The Lowblood Seeks Revenge Against the Highblood Prince Whose Incompetancy Resulted in Her Moirail’s Act of Self Sacrifice With Extensive Battlescenes, Entirely Platonic Hatred and Multiple Victories That Are Definitely Not Worth the Price Paid._ “…also I think you killed Olmiia because of course a rustblood couldn’t be expected to win because hemospectrum,” Hal says. 

“Right, you’re accusing me of that?” Karkat asks. 

“Internalized racism--casteism in this case--exists,” Hal says. 

“Okay, maybe you could make that argument, you are actually not the only one to make that argument,” Karkat says. “But Olmiia’s revenge cycle doesn’t end with her death; it gets picked up by her kismesis and her kismesis’s matesprit and keeps going and eventually results in Murain’s death, so she was victorious.”

Who are all higher on the hemospectrum than she is,” Hal points out. 

“True, but their willingness to continue the feud despite Olmiia being dead is pretty rare in literature. Grieving for a lowblooded kismesis is one thing; actually continuing their request after they’ve died is another. Also, I actually wrote A Tragic Moirallegiance for someone, and that’s what she wanted in the story,” Karkat says. 

They talk until Mona and David and Dirk Strider return. Dirk is holding a case with grill on one end, and vents along the side, obviously the container for the rabbit. “Hello Ms. Lalonde,” Karkat says. “Thanks for letting me recuperate here.” He nods to David Strider, “Mr. Strider.” He clasps hands first with Ms. Lalonde, then with David Strider. 

“Don’t mention it,” Mona says with a smile.She’s a bit taller than David, with violet eyes and blond hair in two ridge-braids that loop into a knot. "It seemed like a good opportunity to meet you.” 

“And interrogate you,” David says. Mona elbows him in the ribs. 

“Likewise,” Karkat says, and smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello on my [Tumblr!](http://othercat2.tumblr.com/)


End file.
